The Saga of Shirou's Summons
by Pallan Minerva
Summary: An anthology of stories where Shirou summons different Servants, and the wacky hijinks they get up to around our friendly neighborhood Ally of Justice. Warning: contains reinterpretations and reimaginings that stray outside of traditional understandings of characters. Reader discretion is advised.
1. Kiara Sessyoin

Glass shards tore through his school uniform as Shirou threw himself through the window. As he landed and rolled on the soil, fragments of glass sliced through his left hand while his other hand still clutched the Reinforced poster. It hurt, but it didn't hurt like a spear through his chest. He did not waste a moment reacting to the pain; he was already sprinting towards his toolshed. His newly-revived heart was racing, _screaming_, as fear and adrenaline pounded through his arteries in equal amounts.

"Hah..." The spearman sighed calmly as he walked through the broken window, the glass crunching underneath him. "Are you really going to waste this much time struggling? You know what's going to happen in the end."

Shirou didn't listen; could hardly even hear him over the blood in his ears and his gasping breath as he ran into the shed. His eyes darted around the darkened shed, but there was simply no time. He could somehow smell the stench of oncoming death once more—

He spun and unrolled the poster in one smooth motion. As the spear once more tried to take a bite out of him, the poster shattered in a last desperate scream for his life. Shirou fell onto the floor and hissed in pain; it felt like the impact caused a fracture in his tailbone. If he survived this, that was going to be a few days of rest to fix.

_If._

The blue-clad lancer stood a few steps inside the shed, his red eyes the same color as his spear, like the color of the death that Shirou would never forget.

"Well, end of the line." The man shrugged. "You got any last words? Maybe a message I can carry onto a friend of yours? I can promise you I ain't gonna hurt 'em."

Shirou just glared more intensely at the man, causing him to sigh again.

"Figures. You might have had potential if someone had gotten to you before me, but unfortunately for you..."

He drew his spear back. Shirou prepared to roll to the side, even if he recognized that as a futile gesture. He was going to die here.

"...my targets never get to run away for long. Nice knowin' ya, kid."

He was going to die here. He was going to die here. He was going to die here. He was going to die he was going to die again he was going to die one more time like he had died an hour ago like he had died ten years ago he was going to die he was going to die

_I can't die yet!_

In slow motion, the red lance started moving forward, blazing a trail of death once more.

_I haven't saved a single person! I haven't gotten to feel what it's like to smile like dad yet!_

Shirou breathed one last time.

_No! I won't die here! __**I am not going to die again!**_

Like a metaphysical cry for help, Shirou's plea reached into the Throne of Heroes. In another timeline, his voice would have been heard by a dying King on a hill, heartbroken and in the throes of despair. She would have been one of the first and last people that he ever truly saved.

Instead, it dove past her, soaring further and further into the core of the Ring of Deterrence, deeper than any other summon had ever gone before. It reached beyond his world, beyond the Reverse Side, beyond anywhere that anyone but the Second Magician had ever gone before. It burst through a spiritual shell and touched the soul of a woman who hadn't been touched in such a way in a long, long time.

"Ah...?" A voice whose timbre had been unheard for too long murmured. "Is someone... asking for me...?"

From her position with her legs curled to one side, she looked up at nothing, but felt the summon sink into her entire body. She closed her eyes and shook as she felt the call.

"I see..." Her smile was beatific. "Well, how could I refuse such a passionate request?"

Shirou's prayer was answered.

A warm light bathed his shed, a light that wrapped him in its embrace and reminded him of long-buried memories of his mother, a light that whispered in his ear that everything would be okay. He felt a surge of strength rejuvenate him as it rushed from his heart to the ends of his limbs. For a moment, Shirou could forget that he was both terrified and furious at his impending death. He felt... bliss.

When he opened his eyes, hands cradled his face, and a pair of golden eyes locked onto his own. The deep pools caused his soul to stir, contorting itself around an idea it couldn't grasp. No, perhaps that wasn't his soul. It felt like some kind of carnal center deep inside of him, something that had never been touched in all his seventeen years of being alive. He didn't know how to deal with it.

His eyes drifted from hers to take in her cheekbones, the outline of her nose, full lips that were curved in a small smile. She was beautiful. If Shirou had a bigger vocabulary, he might have been able to find a more apt description for her, but as it was it seemed perfectly suited for her.

"Eyes like yours..." she said softly, "It has been a long time since I have last seen them. I suppose you must be my Master, hm?"

Shirou opened his mouth to reply, but no comprehensible noise emerged, only a grunt that could be interpreted as vaguely questioning. It made her giggle, which sounded like the tinkling of chimes.

"Adorable." Her thumbs traced the line of his jaw, making a shudder run through him.

"Hey, hey, what the hell is this?" She finally let him breathe by looking away, staring at the interloper that had now made two attempts on his life. "You were a Master this whole time?"

She let go of him slowly and stood up. Shirou only then realized that she was garbed in a nun's outfit. Well, something resembling it, as he was relatively sure that nuns did not cut a slit in their robe that ran up all the way to the top of their thigh. It was extremely difficult to rip his eyes away, but as the tension in the shed increased, he turned to the spearman once more.

"What a mangy mutt you are," she sighed, a cloud of her breath born and dying in the span of a second, "dragging yourself into my Master's home and slobbering all over him. You were never house-trained, were you?"

His face soured, but his shoulders tightened and his feet shifted into a wider stance as he readied for combat.

"Yeah, I didn't take too well to muzzles," he said

She giggled again. "Yet your leash is as tight as a noose." She placed a hand over her mouth to cover the mockingly seductive smile that she wore. "You should be more concerned about breaking your neck."

He growled but kept up his implacable glare. Their standoff continued for what felt like hours without a single person moving. Shirou breathed very quietly, not wanting to set off another fight that would break more of his house. Everyone was on a hair trigger, and he wasn't sure what would touch off the explosion.

Somewhere, the sound of wood shattered like the firing of a gun. Shirou cringed as the spearman jumped forward, thrusting his lance in what would surely be a mortal wound at the woman. Shirou was half to his feet to intercept the attack, but stopped in his tracks as she casually raised both of her hands.

As if mirroring her motion, two ghostly white hands emerged from the soil to clap onto the red lance and pull it away from the spearman, throwing it to the side instead. He exclaimed in shock, but hastily dodged backwards as the hands grabbed at him. Then they slipped back into the earth with an uncomfortable slurping noise when he moved too far for them to reach.

He reached for his spear, but before he grabbed it, his expression turned shocked and he threw himself onto the ground to dodge a hail of arrows that would have otherwise skewered him.

"What the—_you again?!_" he yelled in the direction of the arrows. "Why in the name of Saint Patrick's seventeen bastard daughters—!"

He didn't get a chance to finish that sentence. Shirou, despite having been killed by this man barely an hour ago, decidedly felt that this had become bullying when another ghostly hand rose from the earth and socked the spearman with an extremely solid uppercut into the jaw. He winced as he heard the crack of bone. The spearman stumbled back, finally grabbed his spear, and spat out some blood.

"_Fuck_ _this!_"

And with that, he jumped onto his roof, and made what could politely be called a rapid tactical retreat. The nun lowered her hands, but not her guard, and in the next moment easily stepped aside to dodge another hail of arrows.

"Such eagerness," she said in her sensual voice. "Do you seek to impale me as well?"

Shirou managed to get up and stagger to the doorway. The newcomer had broken more of his house. The red swordsman he'd seen battling the spearman approached from the shattered gate of the compound. However, now the man was holding a large black bow, pointed right at the nun.

"Archer, stand down!"

Shirou's shoulders instantly tensed. He recognized that voice. There was no way he would ever _not_ recognize that voice. Rin Tohsaka, student extraordinaire and a girl he most definitely did _not_ have feelings for, easily stepped through the pieces of the broken gate as she yelled to the red-clad archer.

"Master, I'm afraid that right now your tactical analysis of the situation is nothing short of moronic," he stated calmly, his eyes locked onto the nun. "She's—"

"Emiya-kun?" Tohsaka started forward briefly as she spotted him leaning on the doorframe of his shed. "You're alright?"

"Y-Yeah?"

She gave a sigh of relief, but swiftly followed it up with a glare and a step towards him. "You—!"

"_Master!_" The man she had called Archer raised his voice, stopping her in her tracks. She finally looked at the nun, and her expression tensed. She flicked her eyes to her classmate again, and he couldn't help but blush under her gaze.

"You of all people had to be the seventh Master...?" she muttered, and then stood a little straighter, pointing a finger at the other woman. "What class are you?"

"My my, so rude." Her question didn't faze the holy woman at all, who still stood between Tohsaka and Archer, and himself. "I suppose it would be nice to get intimate with a pretty little face like yours, but are you really worth my... trust?"

Tohsaka growled.

"So the fact that we just saved your Master's life isn't enough for you?" Frustration dripped from every word.

"The enemy of my enemy is not necessarily my ally," she replied easily. "I'm sure you understand."

"I just brought this idiot back from the dead not even an _hour _ago! Why would I want to kill him after—" Tohsaka's twintails bounced as she stomped her foot, holding back a scream.

Shirou's jaw dropped. "Wait, that was you?"

"_Yes..._" Her hiss did a very good job of imitating a snake. "Now, if you wouldn't mind, _Emiya-kun_, I think we need to have a little chat."

Those words scared him. They scared him a lot.

* * *

Original Author's note as follows:

**Kiara will likely get a follow-up if my muse decides to stop sleeping.**

**Thanks for reading.**

**Edit: Thanks to the guest reviewer who reminded me that Rin would call him Emiya-_kun_. My thought was that she was using -san because -kun would be used when she was condescendingly talking down to him, only later turning into a term of endearment. I also fixed a few lines I felt were a little awkward.**

Chapter was rewritten as of October 10th, 2019 with the help of **TungstenCat** and **Exstarsis**.


	2. Scáthach

The slurp of the tea being poured into a clay mug was echoed in the polite sip that the lady in the tight catsuit let out, the sigh of her breath creating ripples. Shirou was watching her cautiously, sipping on his own cup and leaning back on his countertop.

"I told you, you aren't coming." Shirou said, resolute.

"I believe your exact words were 'cannot'." The answering tone came.

"Don't argue." Shirou declared, remaining steadfast. "I don't need to fight during the day. Every time there has been a battle it was at night. There is no need to follow me to school."

"If that is what you declare, I will agree not to follow you."

Shirou sighed in relief, heading for the door. "I'll be back before sundown, Lancer."

"Of course, Shirou." With one hand behind her back she crossed her fingers. Like she would trust Shirou to not get into trouble. Every single day of this war has led to her master getting injured or hurt. She couldn't allow him to die on her watch. The moment he left, she looked over at the third member of the breakfast table. "Miss Taiga, is this what you deal with on a daily basis?"

"Hmm?" The woman seemed easily distracted, inhaling a bowl of rice at a rate worthy of any Pict after a march. "Oh? Shirou? Yes, the boy has always been that way. Won't listen to reason, won't stop for anything."

"I want to go to school and make sure he is alright." She gave the woman her full attention. "You are an educator there, are you not?"

"Oh, of course I am! I teach English there."

It was the work of but a moment to carve the runes she needed. "Do you ever call in a substitute? A replacement? A private tutor?"

"I suppose if we get sick we can ask for a replacement…"

Her hands glowed as she chanted a few words in the old tongue. "Can you ask for any replacement?"

"No, the school has a list of people." Taiga waved off, too calm. "But I always run late, so the aide gave up on me!"

"You know," Lancer mentioned, "I am a capable teacher. I am from an English speaking country, too." She traced another rune in the air. "You look rather pale, are you sure you don't want me to do you that _favor_?" The word was pronounced with inflection.

Taiga's eyes slackened. "Now that you mention it, I don't feel so good." Taiga yawned. "Can you fill in for me? My lesson plan is right here. A day off sounds really nice."

"Do you mind if I borrow some clothes?"

**[Saga]**

When she entered the school, it was in the clothing that Taiga had on hand. Granted, her curves were not as generous, and the clothing had to fit a much more capable form. The skirt was barely able to be buttoned, and it did its job. Barely. The blouse? Two buttons from giving up the ghost. But it was modest and decent for the occasion. A set of 'indoor' shoes were stolen from the Emiya household and brought in the convenient book bag. The last and most difficult hurdle left was actually getting to the school. Taiga had offered her scooter to use, and without thinking she had agreed.

"Bassa!" She barked at the vehicle. She had no riding skill to even count on here, and the handles would just twitch one way or the other and it would lead to her careening all over the road! She tried to drive the damned device as directed, but the daft thing wouldn't comply! Every other part of her plan to protect Shirou was working perfectly, except for this thing! She could scream it was aggravating her so much. She barely parked the device on a platform next to the school without injury, but it was close.

Shirou had taken her by the school once, and she knew exactly where to go. His room was exactly one floor down and two doors to the left. Now she could finally protect her Master. A cool smile turned her lips upward, and there was a loud _clang_ as a young man slammed into a row of lockers nearby. He must have trouble focusing. Lancer's eyebrow couldn't help but slide upwards as she slipped on her indoor shoes, entirely cognizant of someone else running into a doorframe. "Perhaps I will need to substitute for physical education as well," she muttered.

Now all she had to do was teach some children how to speak English and everything would be fine. Her classroom held twenty five youths of varying resilience and eagerness. "Stand! Bow! Sit!" One of the students bellowed, as the entire class rose to greet her. She only recognized one of the students, the young Rin she had confronted in her first few moments in this war. She didn't sense Archer in the room, but the man was fairly rude. She had no intention of starting anything here.

"My name is Alison Haig, and I will be your English and homeroom teacher today while Fujimura Sensei recovers from her illness." She said in perfect Japanese. The Grail imparted knowledge unto her, knowledge enough to teach these children. "I will teach you the English lesson that was prepared for you by Fujimura-sensei."

She wielded the chalk like it was a polearm, with wide sweeping gestures that carved white lines into the chalkboard and left a clear word on the board. 'KNOW' was carved into the black surface, and she turned back to the class fast enough to catch most of the young men still staring at her ass. Not that she could blame them. This skirt was a bit tight, after all. "This word is the English expression to understand, to learn, to become familiar, and to be at one with an ideal. It is pronounced as follows:" She explained in Japanse. Then she cleared her throat and switched to English. "Repeat afta' me!" She pointed at the board with the chalk, vigorous. "Ken!"

"Sensei?" Rin raised her hand. "Aren't you forgetting a consonant?"

"I pronounced all of them." She explained in Japanese. "Again! Ken!"

The class copied her, seemingly confused. "Sensei, isn't it pronounced with an 'oh'?" Rin asked.

"Miss Tohsaka. Could you please step forwards and pronounce this sentence correctly?" She started drawing more words on the board, her hips swaying from side to side as she took up the entire board space with a statement. 'To prepare a hare you remove the hair, skin and bone. With hair gone the hare is bare and gone!' She wrote. "You may begin."

Rin seemed to stand up straighter, and spoke clearly and concisely. "To prepare a hare-" Lancer cut her off with a hand.

"Terrible pronunciation! Where is your dipthong? You actually rolled your tongue around that 'r' like it was a cucumber!" Rin colored red in the cheeks, looking somewhere between angry and humiliated. Lancer had to keep from smiling. This was just too much fun! "Now repeat after me, class." She stood off to the side by the windows, watching the male half of the class give her words no attention, and the female half stare at the board rather than her. "Tae prepah' a hae ya remove ta hae, skein and bone. Wid hae gun ta hae is bae and gun!" She said in clear pronounced _proper _English. Not the language of the oppressors, but the language of the Picts and Celts.

She made the class practice this one by one for the next hour, until every single one had given their best and their all. But tongues got tired, and eyes got lazy and would rather stare at the two buttons that barely clung to life on her blouse rather than tongue twisters on the board. Shinji Matou, one of the less subtle students, could barely focus at all during the lesson. Rin managed to do the best out of the lot, by the end. By the time the lunch bell rang, Lancer could recognize the look and sounds of mutiny in the room.

"Grae' work ya heid-weppin' kleggs. If'n ahm tekkin ya termarra I ken kenned ya. Tae ter quiz on propah spek, or ah'm 'avin yer wors bassa's ettin Haggis!" She said in the respectful mother tongue, to see how many understood what she was trying to teach them. As a group, the students looked pale and wan. Afraid, almost. She switched back to Japanese for their benefit. "I will quiz you on this tomorrow if Fujimura-sensei has not recovered."

Scáthach grinned at the look of abject terror the entire class was in. The boy Shinji had buried his head in his hands, whimpering. "What does klegg mean?" He asked the young man next to him. The poor boy had no clue either.

"You are now free to go to lunch, students. You have all done well."

"Stand! Bow! Sit!" She really liked this practice, and bowed back to the students promptly. Shinji nearly seemed to have a conniption at his front row seat, as Scáthach came back to a standing position. The students filed out in rows, their chatter carrying out into the hallway. Scáthach had to leave the room along with them, as another teacher was coming to teach the students after lunch. She would have to teach another class English. "Fu fu fu." She laughed to herself. For the few days she would have here in the waking world, she would at least have a lovely time. It felt so fulfilling to teach children. It had been so very long since she had taught little Cu that she had almost forgotten what it felt like.

She should have been heading to the teacher's lounge, but one look at the cramped room and she decided it would be more entertaining to go look at her pupils. She went into a bathroom and dematerialized, laughing to herself as she glided downstairs to where Shirou's classroom was. She could see cute little Rin Tohsaka blushing and waiting for her Master, foot tapping and sexual tension plain to see. She even bought the boy a bento box! The Grail didn't tell her what that meant in this culture, but to her eyes it was plain to see. The girl liked Shirou. Even if her Servant attacked Shirou, the girl was sweet on him. It reminded her a little bit of Cu. Of course, Cu could understand when women were interested in him. Shirou was a brick that could only feel uncomfortable when women expressed interest.

Shirou joined Rin, the pair heading for the stairs. Scáthach didn't need to protect the boy from her. If he had a chance to sow his wild oats with the girl, it might calm him down some. Laughing to herself, she settled at the top of the stairwell leading to the roof. She could guard the boy and keep anyone from interfering with his very nice lunch with Rin. Her good mood disappeared instantly once a bonded field went up over the school, the entire area turning into a red mist. Students gasped as one, falling to the ground all around.

Scáthach stood up so quickly that the skirt burst. It was a lost cause, now. With a whispered word of magic the blouse and other borrowed items shredded, and she was surrounded by her catsuit. At the top of the stairwell, the door burst open as Rin led the way. "Lancer!" She blurted, surprised. "Were you listening?"

"Master!" Scáthach greeted. Shirou had arrived at the stairs, and was giving her a look with real emotion. Anger simmered behind his eyes.

"I told you, Lancer." Shirou said harshly. "You weren't supposed to come to school."

"Taiga told me I could substitute for her." Scáthach said with equal aloofness. "I told you, Master. Trouble follows you. I chose correctly." He wanted to be a Hero, and the world itself seemed to answer that call.

"Be that as it may, Lancer. I don't want you to be like Archer." Shirou said, clearly. "When we first made our agreement we swore never to tell each other anything less than the full truth."

"We did." She admitted. "But as your Servant I am entitled to protect you. This war is what your heart called out to me for, to find someone that could protect you." Scáthach summoned her dark obsidian spear, permanently colored red from runecraft and blood spilt. "The land of shadows heard your cry, and whatever darkness holds sway in the shallows of your heart was enough to drag me from my slumber. That, Master, is why I cannot follow your order to stay away from the conflict." Shirou seemed to go quiet, letting her keep talking. "You wanted to become a Hero, Master. I am a mentor and trainer of heroes like yourself. That night, your soul called for me to come and teach you. Keep that dark part of your heart from taking over your life and making you into a villain or worse."

"Worse?" Rin piped up.

"The same heart that can make a hero also makes their equal and opposite. Conviction and intent make a heroic spirit. Training and experience prove their worth. Divine Gifts and powers only amplify. They cannot replace those things." Scáthach folded her arms. "Your lack of magic circuits would insult a normal Servant. But for me, I appreciate the added layer of challenge. I look forward to skewering your foes with this handicap."

"Shirou, I am still convinced you summoned Lucifer or someone like that." Rin muttered from her place in between them. "Shouldn't we turn off the barrier before people start dying?"

Shirou and Scáthach stopped their staring match at that. There were foes to break over her knee. Her purpose was clear. Teaching these pupils and taking the time to be her own person were pleasant distractions; Yet it was never enough. Her wish must be fulfilled. There was nothing else to do for it. She wanted her life to end. Shirou didn't believe in living his own life for it's own benefit. He was a man born into a world that held no value for such. The era of fealty and nobility had long gone, and in its place a gilded era of lies and deceit had arisen.

How entertaining it would be to live in such a place. "I can sense a Servant is nearby." Scáthach said, smiling. "I will go to stop them. You and Rin should stay here, where you can be safe."

"Excuse me? Everything bad that has happened at school during this murder-spree has happened on the roof. I would like to say for the record that I prefer to be down on the ground where running away is a valid strategy." Rin spoke up, her pointer finger more expressive than a man painted with Woad. "No, Lancer. Lucifer." Rin corrected herself. "We will go for the first floor. Where we can escape out a window, or run away, or signal Archer or something."

"You cannot speak to him?" Scáthach asked, curious. "Perhaps we should kill you now and then the master downstairs. Then two masters and servants will be out of the war…"

"That won't work, Lancer." Shirou insisted, stepping down the stairs and rolling up his sleeves. As if that would help him. "Archer can act independently. Killing Rin would just mean we would get killed by her vengeful servant. And Archer is enough of a cruel personality that he would do it just to prove my point."

"I was joking, Master." Scáthach assured.

"You summoned the devil, Shirou. Let's face it." Rin said, keeping her distance. "Though it is true that I had to use a command seal to make sure he didn't carpet bomb the school."

Shirou decided not to comment on that. "Let's go. Before whatever this spell is supposed to cause finishes."

Scáthach nodded, using her runecraft to draw upon the walls. From the steel within, she drew upon the metal and called it forth. "Master." She insisted, handing him the cooling metal. "Take this." Shirou accepted her gift, the crude blade enough in his hands. He ripped off his own sleeve to make a wrapping around the hilt.

"Thanks, Lancer. Good luck." His tone had shifted. Being reminded of their deal, and why she served him had warmed his heart. The heat of battle is where a soul like Shirou's belonged. She leapt over the stairs, pivoting her spear through a few walls and stairs to wind her way from the fifth to the second floor of the building. It took a couple of seconds, but by the time her boots cracked the concrete foes were already rising. From the dust bones were coming together, forming some kind of necromantic familiars.

To her, it would barely register as a threat. To Shirou and Rin they would be somewhat more serious. Before the familiars could finish forming her spear cleaved through the ones within range. Somewhere amongst them a Servant was moving. Three swings of her spear and one side of the hallway was completely cleared of enemies. The bones returned to the aether and left nothing behind to show for her efforts. Without delay, the other side of the hallway filled with the rest of her enemies. They gathered into a single body, rising from the floor into something much more challenging.

"This is the work of Caster." Scáthach said clearly. "A bounded field to keep us in, and kill all the humans. Then familiars to do the actual dirty work." Wait, that didn't add up. The familiars weren't needed. The field was draining magic from the world around them. Everyone would die in under an hour. "The familiars are too expensive to summon without cause. _They_ are from Caster. Which means the bounded field is from someone else."

Which meant that these familiars were nothing but a waste of time. Caster was here to attack another Master. Or was trying to kill Shirou. "I can see through your charade." She spat. "Take your concerns elsewhere."

"Oh?" The voice of the accursed witch carried through the hallways. "The sweet little Lancer believes she knows what concern is." Her laughter chortled through the hallway. "Don't you want to stop this, too?"

"What I want doesn't matter. This is the Holy Grail War." Scáthach stated."It is normal for others to be caught up in the war. To be killed in the hails of arrows. Only the sword and spear can accurately decide who should die. Arrows and fire have no care or concern for old or young. This is just another kind of fire."

"How cold of you, Lancer." She said, taking things more seriously. "But I didn't come to stop the bounded field. I only came to talk to you. I know that your Master is weak. Not able to support you. When you realize that you'll never win this war with him weighing you down, you know where to come find me."

She had heard enough. Twisting around, she located the source of the voice. It was the gathered familiar. Scáthach sliced it into pieces, sprinting past it and up the stairs again. There was no sense in leaving a foe where it could flank them. Voices were heard. Scáthach came to a complete stop. "-what we found!"

"My Servant is going to destroy you all!" She recognized these voices. Rin and Shinji were up there. Her grip tightened on the spear, sensing the opportunity. Shinji's voice was especially grating. "She's coming right now to end you all, and there is nothing any of you can do before you both _die_!"

Scáthach could feel a prickling as someone cleared their throat behind her. She turned, seeing another Servant at the bottom of the stairs. "Well? Where is she you blubbering walrus baby?!" Rin decried, screeching. "You're nearly wetting yourself here, Shinji!"

"Hello." Scáthach greeted. The newcomer had hair longer than her own, and a brighter purple. Her taste in clothing was similarly pushing the boundaries of modesty beyond what Scáthach was comfortable with. "Nice hair."

The newcomer tilted her head. The cloth over her eyes had some kind of runecraft over it. Nothing she was familiar with, "Lancer." She mentioned casually. "Your English is shit."

"What."

A weapon appeared in her hands. A dagger on a long chain. "You heard me."

"Tha' ah did." Scáthach cleared her throat. "Ya gen fehl tha'."

With that, battle was joined. Spear met dagger and Scáthach had to admit that her strikes carried power behind them. The air thrummed with it, the power she had being drawn from the entire school like a plague of locusts. A plague that strengthened every strike she made. Meanwhile she was surviving on the scraps of magic that Shirou was able to provide. She was strong, and fast. But somehow this Servant was able to match her. That wasn't supposed to be possible. The Grail clearly was designed with each class of Servant having distinct advantages. The Lancer class was supposed to be the fastest, but somehow she was matching her pace.

With a burst of Prana, she finally went beyond mortal levels of power. "Oh Master, you give me a worthy challenge." The little burst of prana she took from him was all he could give right now. She couldn't even afford to begin her mantra to activate Gae Bolg. Other Servants might panic or demand more prana from their Masters. She prided herself on winning even under the worst of circumstances.

Just that burst was enough to punch through whatever speed her foe had gained. The enemy's breath hitched, and the small chain she used was ill suited for fighting a spear. It could jam a sword or blade easily, but the long pole of the spear darted out once, twice, and then a third time before she could compensate, jumping back away from the spear. Both shoulders and her ear had been taken by Gae Bolg.

"I won't fail her." The other woman said, ignoring the blood. "I cannot fall until her dream is realized."

"Sorry." Scáthach said softly, prana gathering in the balls of her feet. "I don't care. You have lost."

"Cybe-" One of the other Servant's hands tried to remove her blindfold, but it was too late. Scáthach struck like a missile, shoulder buried so deep in her sternum that the other Servant coughed blood. The force of her blow carried both Servants into an exterior wall, the steel beam buckling inside of it. With knee buried in sternum and shoulders ruined, Scáthach brought down the tip of her spear and ended the life of the other Servant.

"Not even a challenge." She scoffed, standing back up. As the other Servant started fading away, Scáthach turned around. The walls had English carved into them from where the other Servant's dagger had been. Her hands traced them. 'Save Sakura.' Scáthach's eyes widened. The other Servant knew she was going to die the moment she cleared her throat. Her knife strikes were never to wound Scáthach, but to plant this message. "You died for this." She whispered. "You could have run. Perhaps won. You had a bounded field killing everyone…" Her gaze went to the last vestiges of the Servant as she crumbled. "I apologize for my unkind words. You really were a hero." She flicked her spear, getting some blood on the English writing on the wall.

"Taegwyl." She chanted, the blood igniting and burning the wall of the writing upon it. The fire burned a perfect square, and with a whisper she ended the effect. She blinked as she heard someone clapping behind her. Rin, Shirou, and Shinji were all looking at her, dumbfounded.

"Good English, teach." Rin muttered.

"The only ones who would have benefitted from that lesson were you mages." Scáthach stated, looking around at the battlefield. "I was teaching you the basis of Gaeic runecraft."

Rin looked in awe, while Shinji looked terrified. "We heard the fight…" Shirou said, taking a deep breath as he looked out of the windows. The bounded field was coming apart, the blood red magic fluttering away into nothingness. "Thank you, Lancer."

"Do not thank me. I should be killing Rin and Shinji, as Masters opposed against you in this war." Scáthach said.

"I think that's enough." Shirou said, clearly. "You could have worked with me once you got to school. Or told me that you were here. Instead you go behind my back and use magic on Taiga. You say it is to protect me, but you threaten my friends at the same time. No, Scáthach, I won't have you act like Archer." Shirou held up his left hand. "By the power of my command seal, I hold you responsible."

Scáthach held her hand out at first, before her body was gripped by the energy of his force of will. The will of a Hero. "Don't-"

Shirou held up his right hand, and that was enough to silence her. "I hold you _responsible_ for executing my ideals as a hero. My ideals will be your ideals. My moral code your own. So long as you are my Servant, I hold you to this. In this war, you will be an extension of my will. You may not betray my allies, and I promise that I will fulfill your wish." Shirou said, every word hitting the core of her connection to the mortal world. Shirou's face was resolute as a third of his power over her faded. As soon as his words ended, they took effect in her body. Every inch of her was filled with Prana, restoring her reserves as well as placing such restrictions upon her.

Rather than feel pain or agony over this, she was in fact impressed. "Master." She stood. "I will not attempt to kill Rin Tohsaka or Shinji Matou. Your ideals will be mine. Though in my heart of hearts I may believe differently." Perhaps Shirou would be the one to finally kill her. He certainly had the heart for it. He lacked the skill and experience to land a hit on her. And yet the boy had potential. "I hold myself responsible for lying to you and protecting you without your consent." Just because she had to keep to this command did not mean she would do so without complaint.

Oh yes, this boy was going to be woken with whiskey and bagpipes in the morning. There would be no sweet Sakura to greet him early in the morning. It would be his Servant, sworn to fulfill his ideals. Which meant saving everyone that Shirou could. With a glance around the school, as she watched the ambulances show up she could feel a slight flutter in her heart.

"Master." She spoke up, as Rin and Shirou were having an argument. Shinji had run off, hopefully to die and no longer threaten Shirou. "Does that mean I can continue to come and teach at school to protect you?"

Shirou's face skewed up. "Uhm." He looked over at Rin, who was nodding her head emphatically. "As long as you don't bring attention to yourself, I guess. Taiga could use a few days off." Scáthach arrogantly preened. She would make sure that the woman did. Teaching these youth was just too much fun!

* * *

Original author's note as follows:

**My muse woke up very quickly thanks to your kind reception. I will take all of your suggestions into account. Not all will be used, but all of them are useful.**

**Thanks for reading.**

Rewritten by Aberron on 11/30/19.


	3. Mysterious Heroine X

_Rejoice, young boy. Your wish will finally come true._

Those words echoed in Shirou's ears as he walked out of the church, the priest's eerie gaze following him all the way. Tohsaka walked alongside him, her gait somewhat frustrated. She was clearly unhappy with the fact that he decided to remain a Master in this... war. Shirou was a participant in a war now. He wasn't out to conquer or hurt anyone, though. He was in this war to save others. That is what his ideals told him was right, no matter how that priest tried to challenge him. Kirei Kotomine unsettled him, made his skin crawl off of his bones and fold itself into a neat pile.

Tohsaka opened the church gate, and he stepped outside.

"Master, have you decided?" His Servant addressed him with an intent-filled stare. Her entire outfit, from the baseball cap that had an ahoge sticking out of it to her thigh-highs, was covered in dark blue. The only non-blue items were gold highlights on every piece of blue clothing, a white t-shirt with text that he couldn't quite make out, and her pale skin highlighted in the region between her thigh-highs and her dark bloomers.

"Yes." He nodded at her, resolute in his posture and his plan. "I will fight alongside you, Saber."

"Wonderful!" Her exuberance was inappropriate for this time of night, and yet he couldn't help but smile along with her. "Together, we'll take the Holy Grail and eliminate all other Sabers from this universe."

She held out her hand, and he clasped it and gave her a solid handshake. Shirou had had a little trouble following her motivations when she revealed them, something about destroying all these people that had the same face as her and apparently were also Sabers, except some weren't? It was extremely confusing to a young man already overwhelmed by the information he had to consume tonight. He was still working on that Holy Grail War thing.

"Ugh, come on." Tohsaka almost grunts, dissatisfied entirely with the way things ended up. "Let's go. I'm going to walk you home, and then any debt between us is repaid, and we're going to be enemies for the rest of this war."

She probably wanted him to surrender so that they wouldn't have to fight. Tohsaka, despite her faults (which were becoming more numerous by the hour), was a good person. He knew, despite her words, that she wouldn't harm an innocent person intentionally. Maybe they could ally or at least be neutral to one another through this.

They walked in silence down the hill from the church, him and Tohsaka side-by-side, Saber trailing very close behind, her eyes darting around in search of enemies. Or perhaps in search of the elusive 'other Sabers'. It would have made him laugh if she weren't so serious about it.

"Emiya-kun," Tohsaka broke the silence. "I would like you to explain something to me."

"Err... what can I do for you?" This was weird. Tohsaka was extremely smart, way smarter than him, and a superior magus by far. He wasn't sure if there was anything he knew that she didn't.

"People around Homurahara like to call you a fake school janitor because you do so much to help maintain the school." She said off-handedly, without looking at him.

"Yeah. It never bothered me all that much." She grimaced.

"How do you do all that, and archery club, and still rank in the top ten in our year?" Okay, now her voice was getting a little strained. This seemed touchy. Tread carefully, Shirou.

"I... Well, first of all, I'm not in the archery club anymore. I left after I hurt myself at my part-time job."

"Yeah, but to make up for that you just started going to school earlier so that Ryuudou-kun could shove more work onto you."

Just because she saw him do that yesterday doesn't mean it happened all the time... though he did wake up early to help Issei a lot.

"Well... I don't mind. I like helping people." He didn't see it as him being taken advantage of. Issei was his friend, and friends helped each other out.

"Okay, fine. So you help out a lot. How do you score so high?" She was getting a little frustrated now, little glances stolen in his direction every now and then.

"I just make sure to study at least an hour every day, if not more. That's in addition to finishing every one of my assignments."

"You are quite the diligent student, Master." Saber commented from behind. "An admirable quality in any fellow. It will get you far."

"It's not really that great." He replied, smiling a little. "I do what I have to do."

"Rrrgh." Another grunt, though this one was close to a growl. Tohsaka's vocabulary of sounds was growing larger. "You make it sound so easy. I do that too, but I have to..." She trailed off, slowly coming to a halt.

"What?" He looked at her. "What's wrong?" Her eyes were squinted, staring forward. He looked forward as well.

A few dozen meters ahead stood two figures. One was... he recognized her. It was that white-haired little girl that popped up a couple times in the past few days, who stared at him and said strange things. She was staring right at him, bright red eyes with an innocent sheen on them. What the heck was she doing out this late?

She was chaperoned by a woman not much taller than her. Shirou couldn't make much out about her, but in her silhouette he could see an ahoge sticking off of her head, not dissimilar to his own Servant's, and the silver sheen of plate armor that gave some light to blue cloth covering her arms. He thought that he could see the faint hint of green eyes. It was a little annoying to have the moon behind them, obscuring their features.

"Good evening, onii-chan." The little girl stated calmly, and despite the distance between them he could hear her as if she was right in front of him. She gave a little curtsy. "Have you finished talking?"

"Emiya-kun, that's another Master." Tohsaka said quietly.

"What?" No way. That little girl... was fighting in this war? People were going to try to kill her? That's wrong. There was something so wrong about that, it made his liver twist in place.

"Where's your friend's Servant?" The little girl was swaying back and forth in place, as if she needed to release some energy inherent to all children everywhere.

"He's around." Tohsaka said, as if Archer wasn't recovering from injuries incurred when Shirou and Rin encountered one another earlier that evening.

"Hmm." She was clearly not convinced. "Well, onii-chan, Rin, I am... delighted to meet you both." She smiled. "My name is Illyasviel von Einzbern."

Tohsaka took a step back. "Einzbern...?" Apparently the name had some significance to her.

"Master." The other woman spoke for the first time. She somehow sounded... familiar. He couldn't quite place it. "Don't drag this out."

"Ah, you're right, Saber." Wait, what? "Well, it was nice to meet you. Kill the other two, just leave onii-chan alive."

_What?!_

The other figure took a single step forward, then disappeared. He blinked, and she was right in front of him _oh sweet mother he was about to die again_-

A hand pushed him back, and his own Servant lunged forward, pulling what appeared to be a... Shirou was only barely able to see a blue laser sword, the light it radiated was near blinding. A loud crack that sounded like a power line falling down echoed, and the crackle of electricity made itself known. The other woman, who he could now see had blonde hair just like his own Servant and was definitely wearing plate armor, held the laser sword back with... nothing. The laser sword was just staying in place. Maybe she was holding an invisible sword?

Shirou wanted to wipe his eyes. He must be extremely tired, to the point of hallucination.

His Servant, his Saber, growled so loud he could hear it over the grinding of their two blades together.

"_Saber...!_" She yelled. Only then did he make the connection. If you stood his Servant and the other woman side by side, they would look like twins. There was almost nothing different about them apart from what they were wearing, and they sounded exactly alike. It hit him like a lightning bolt.

_She's out to kill her... identical siblings?_

"What the- guh!" The enemy Saber didn't have much time to react, as his Saber kicked her right in the chest, pushing her a few feet away.

"Master, look!" His Saber turned to him for a moment, her sea-green eyes shining, a grin that showed off pointed molars embedded on her face. "This is the fight I wanted! The Holy Grail must've started working early for us!"

She couldn't say much more as the enemy Saber was back, throwing invisible blows left and right at her. Shirou knew a little bit of sword-fighting from training under Fuji-nee, but this was orders of magnitude above his level. The humming of the laser sword was the bassline to the melody of the two blades clashing. He couldn't see the space between them, things were moving so fast. The dance they did with their legs as they maneuvered around each other was what caught his eye, as it was at a near-normal tempo of motion. He knew that Servants were beyond the realm of normal human ability, but it still awed him nonetheless.

It also concerned him as he watched the direction the battle was turning in.

The enemy Saber was being pushed back, but her face did not betray any worry over this. She was an expert in her craft, and Shirou realized that she was not losing ground, but rather manipulating their positioning.

"Saber-!" He cried, but it was too late. The enemy Saber exploited an opening, and kneed his own Saber into the nearby cemetery. His Saber yelped as she blasted through two tombstones, the enemy Saber making long jumps to follow close behind her.

He made to run into the graveyard, only for Tohsaka to put a hand on his chest to stop him, a look of angered astonishment coming onto her face.

"What the hell are you doing?" She nearly shouted. "Are you an idiot? Do you want to die? Humans can't get in the middle of two Servants fighting! You'll just be in the way and get killed!"

"Well, I can't just stand here doing nothing!" It doesn't matter if they're both way better than him, he had to do something. His blood was boiling, screaming at him to _help Saber_.

"Oh, don't worry. I won't let you two stay idle." The little girl, Illya, was right in their faces. She twirled her fingers, and thin glowing white thread wrapped around Shirou, forcing his arms to his sides and his legs to lock together. He fell down with a grunt of pain.

"Emiya- shit!" Tohsaka cursed, throwing a red-colored spell at Illya and jumping away.

"Just stay right there, onii-chan." Illya murmured, a smile that no longer looked very innocent painted on her face. "I'll be back for you soon."

She walked out of his line of sight, presumably to go fight Tohsaka. He struggled against his bonds, but they just wouldn't budge. _Must be some kind of fancy magecraft... maybe I can..._

He took a deep breath, and visualized a burning hot iron rod in his mind. He prepared himself for the agony he was about to endure.

_Saber... Tohsaka... I need to help them! _

He shoved the imaginary rod into his spine, and hissed as the pain spread out of his back and into his limbs. Using the pain to drive him forward, he reinforced his bones and muscles, and attempted to bend his legs and stretch his arms out as hard as he could.

He felt a little space give out in the restraints, just barely enough for him to slide out. It took a lot of awkward wiggling, and he thought he might have heard some article of clothing tear a little, but he managed to get the thin wire off of him. He clambered off of the ground and brushed some dirt off of his shirt.

From some distance away, he heard Illya's voice again.

"Mou... I thought I told you to stay still, onii-chan!"

Shirou, who normally had the strength of wet papyrus against the demands of children, refused to listen to anything she said and started to sprint towards the cemetery. He just barely managed to vault over the metal fence, rolling onto the hard ground. He ran as fast as he could towards the sounds of fighting.

This meant he ignored Illya's pause in her own fight with Rin to modify the restraints he had been in. The wire lifted off the ground, shaping itself into a small white bird. Were Shirou to have noticed it, he would have thought it looked like a beautiful piece of artwork, though he would only be able to think about that for a second and a half, as the wireframe bird immediately started launching green spellfire his way.

"Gah!" He shouted as he just barely noticed the approaching magecraft, managing to dodge to the side but banging his shoulder against a grave in the process. He continued to evade by rolling and strafing around cover, but the bird was persistent. This was getting him nowhere.

He looked around for something to wield to beat this stupid bird back, and of course, his not being in an armory of any kind meant that all he could see was a moderately thick branch, about the length of his arm and the width of two of his fingers.

It wasn't a shinai, or even a bow, but it would have to do.

Dodging more spellfire, he picked it up as he was running, then ducked behind a particularly large tombstone. He only had a few seconds.

_Ignite the rod._

_Shove it in._

_Ignore the pain._

"Trace, _on!_" His aria spoken, green wires made of light quickly grew up the branch, glowing brightly before turning off. The branch was now as hard as a Damascus steel scimitar.

The bird spun past the corner, turning around to face him, and launched another spell. He parried it with the reinforced branch, then ran forward to try to hit it.

"Haaaah!" He lunged and missed. The bird was too small, too dextrous, and had the advantage of a third dimension of movement over him. It chirped in such a way that he almost thought it was laughing at him, before launching even more spells, this time colored in a deep purple.

"I don't have time for you!" He dodge-rolled away once more from the rapid-fire spells and started to run in irregular patterns towards where the two Sabers were still battling it out. His Saber seemed to be a bit more winded, some scuff marks showing the effort she had been putting into this fight, but she was smiling like she was having the time of her life. Like there was no joy that she could ever earn that was better than what she was feeling right now.

The other Saber stoically held her sword pointed upwards, the only sign that she had been fighting was the fog that appeared in front of her every time she exhaled harshly. She was facing away from him. He could do this.

He brought the branch down low for an uppercut swing. Moving his body weight downwards, he prepared to strike. His Saber's eyes widened as she spotted him running that way.

"Master!" She shouted, about to warn him off. Of course, by then it was too late.

He swung and missed. The enemy Saber just flowed around his blow, and twirled around, her invisible blade cutting through his stomach. Blood splashed onto her armour and dripped onto the grass, and he screamed, falling over onto his side.

The stick fell out of his hand as he clutched his abdomen, trying to keep all the blood and organs that were beginning to fall out inside. He failed, and as his insides leaked out, his vision started to fade.

"_Master!"_

"_Saber! I thought I told you I wanted him alive!"_

"_I apologize. He tried to attack, and I reacted on instinct."_

"_Ugh. How boring."_

"_EMIYA-KUN!"_

Something pressed onto his chest, and he groaned in pain.

"_Rin, if I ever see you again, you're dead."_

"_Saber...!"_

"_If he survives, perhaps we will meet again on the battlefield. I look forward to our rematch."_

"_Emiya-kun, don't you dare die on me again!"_

He passed out, one last wish to have saved someone on his lips.

* * *

**I'd like to take this time to give recognition to my friend Aberron, who's sort of been operating as a consultant for me on this. Whenever I write, I encounter a lot of potholes that I have trouble getting over. Whenever I ask for his help, he's always there to fill them. He writes really good fanfiction himself, and I highly recommend you go check them out.**

**Thanks for reading.**

**Edit: I apologize that this wasn't clear. Mysterious Heroine X was summoned as an Assassin, but in her Fate/Grand Order My Room dialogue lines she adamantly refutes the idea that she is anything but a Saber. She attempted to hide this from Shirou. The situation will likely be resolved in her next excerpt.**


	4. Kiara Sessyoin 2

Shirou woke up with an erection.

This is not exactly uncommon, as Shirou is a 17-year-old young man. He is used to them. They usually go away after a few minutes or a cold shower. They have never been an issue for him before. Why would they? His eyes never really stopped too long on any member of the opposite sex (and he understood that he did not see the same sex in that way). Those sorts of feelings were pushed aside, unnecessary to help him reach his dream of becoming a Hero of Justice.

However, this morning was unlike the rest where Shirou woke up with morning wood. In particular, this morning was different because, for the first time in his life, he was sleeping in the same bed as a woman, and he was extremely aware of the fact that she was a woman.

There is no point going over her features. She is lust incarnate. His face was buried between her bountiful breasts, his arms were wrapped around her soft torso, and his erection was pressed against her thick thighs. Only the layer of his underwear and of her magenta lingerie (wherever it actually covered anything) separated direct contact. He understood all this in a nanosecond, and simultaneously realized that she was awake and aware of his morning wood. He could feel her soft, cool breath landing on his hair. But she said nothing. She let him retain some kind of semblance of his dignity.

They lay there in silence for a few minutes. It wasn't basking in the moment, because for Shirou that moment felt _extremely_ uncomfortable. It was simply... existing. Shirou's mind slowly unfroze itself from the paralysis it had fallen into since realizing his predicament, and he very carefully extricated his right arm from underneath her while he brought his left hand to his side. He didn't dare even look her in the eye.

_Lock it away. You don't need that. You have better ways to spend your time than feeling like you need to... do that._

He pushed himself off of his bed, his face turned towards the wall. Meeting her eye would mean that she could likely see into his soul, and who knows what she'd see in there.

"Good morning." Her whisper caressed his ears, and he shuddered. _Lock it away_.

"Good morning." He replied calmly, still not looking at her. He pushed himself into an upright position and climbed off of the bed.

"Did you sleep well?" She asked.

"Yeah." His bedside clock read 6:34 am. That must have meant he slept in, but it was Sunday, so it was acceptable for one day. Plus, neither Fuji-nee nor Sakura would come in today, so he was free to recuperate from last night.

Last night... as Shirou pulled out some polyester clothing from his closet, he considered what he had just dealt with in the past 24 hours. What that fake priest had said... what Illya had said... He clutched his left breast as he remembered the red spear boring into his heart. The trauma was still embedded in his head, and he hissed, feeling a phantom pain coming back.

Arms wrapped around his navel, one hand reaching up to hold his own. "Does it still hurt?" This time it wasn't metaphorical, she was literally whispering in his ear. She knew _exactly_ what she was doing, that is, making it very hard for him to not give in to... those feelings. He took in a deep breath, which allowed him to recenter himself.

"No, I'm okay. It's just a flashback." He replied, and gently pulled her arms off of him. She didn't resist. He finished putting his clothes on, feeling her presence interfering with the field of his personal space. It was not that she was clingy, because she didn't demand his attention to be on her. She made herself available to him, and it was the influence of her aura that made him _want_ to pay attention to her.

She said nothing as he left the room, escaping her for the moment. He walked out to the small dojo on his property, bowing as he entered, and wiped his feet on the mat by the door.

"Pardon the intrusion." He said, before taking a big breath and falling to the floor on his back. He started the process of activating his magecraft, picturing and inserting the iron rod. It never ceased to hurt like hell, but he stifled the pain and used the activated magic circuit to restrain himself, rather than reinforce himself. Keeping the mental shackles on, he started his repetitions.

His exercises were like meditation for him. All of the lethargy that remained from sleeping, all of the burdens that would pull his mind down, he was able to let them all go. He was not absent-minded nor unaware, he was still cognizant of his surroundings, but keeping the focus on the magic circuit and doing his exercises let him, somewhat ironically, reduce the tension in his body.

That didn't mean it wasn't hard. He still strained after reaching past 150, but he was already feeling better.

He went through his routine: push-ups, light cardio, stretches, shadow boxing. They all served as the warm-up to his training with the shinai. Not only did he keep the magic restraints on, but he simultaneously reinforced the shinai. It strained his single magic circuit to the limit, the burning hot shaft in his spine melting and trying to tear apart his back, vertebra by vertebra. He blinked away tears as he went through his katas.

_Pain is a temporary investment into immense and long-lasting growth_, his dad had once said. The short-term damage was less important than what he could do with what he gained from this in the long term. Last night proved to him that he _wasn't good enough_. He was defenseless against the first enemies he met in this war, and if he couldn't even defend himself, how could he save anyone?

As he brought the shinai down for the finisher of one of the katas, he heard the door quietly slide open and closed. He knew that it could only be one person, and he decided that it was more important to keep going rather than acknowledge her entrance. He didn't want to accidentally meet her gaze, so he kept his eyes shut, so familiar with the space that he would know at all times just how far away he was from every wall.

He started another kata. Audience be damned, he was going to make himself stronger. He was on the path to being able to save people right now, just by being in this war. Which felt somewhat ironic when looked at with a certain perspective. It was very possible that he would participate in conflicts that would end in the death of others. Was that righteous? Was that moral? Was he allowed to do that as long as it meant that others would be saved?

These thoughts caused him to pause in the middle of a kata, his shinai held up midswing. This was reminding him of conversations with his dad, about how saving someone meant sacrificing someone else. Shirou fundamentally disagreed with that premise. Everyone _can _and _should_ be saved. There was no middle ground, no compromise. He would do his utmost best in every capacity to make sure that this was a war where no one died.

"Your forms are beautiful." Her voice tore through his trance, ruining the calm he had brought himself to up until that point. "Elegant, even."

"Thank you." He responded automatically.

"Do you practice often?"

"Not often enough." He opened his eyes and frowned. He was still disappointed in himself. He turned around and carefully placed his shinai on the rack, absently noticing that she had donned her pseudo-nun garb once more. He then walked over to the bench she was sitting on, picking up a towel that had been hung there since a few days ago. A few days too many. He sat down next to her and wiped down his face, used to sweating out his troubles, but unused to the company.

"You are unhappy." She stated neutrally.

"I should have done better last night." He wiped down his arms while looking at the floor.

"What do you think you could have improved on?" The curiosity in her voice seemed genuine. For a moment, he felt like he could let his guard down.

"I could have..." Well, there was the conversation with Illya. He probably could have gotten out of the bindings, but he was... distracted. Maybe he could have helped in the fight with that Berserker...

"Heracles would have torn you apart in seconds." She said without flair. "I was only able to handle him because he is a straightforward fighter, and I am not."

"Yeah, well..." He struggled to find a good response, and after a few moments he sighed, giving up.

"The Tohsaka girl is still sleeping in the guest room." She was kind enough to give him a metaphorical ledge to grab onto. He nodded in response.

"Okay. I'll start working on breakfast after I wash up." After wiping down his legs, he stood up and threw the towel over his shoulder. He made his way back into his house, observing that a layer of dust was building up in the hallways, and noting that he would need to do some housework today. Briefly, he thought about trying to take care of that before he washed himself, but he didn't know what time Tohsaka would be waking up, and he wanted to have breakfast ready for her when she did. He needed to be clean to make breakfast.

Before heading to the water closet, he stopped at his room to pick up a pair of underwear to replace the one he was wearing. His washroom was tidy. A hamper and the two laundry machines stood in the first room to the left of the door, above which a shelf hung with both towels and rags. After he stripped himself of his sweaty clothing and threw them and the exercise rag into the hamper, he pulled a larger towel down and wrapped it around his waist, hanging a second, smaller towel over his neck.

Pulling away the cover of the bathtub, or the _ofuro_, he put a hand over the water without touching it to check the relative temperature. It seemed warm enough, though it probably wouldn't hurt to turn on the heater beneath the _ofuro_ to warm it up a few more degrees. He adjusted the dial to have the heater on medium, then picked up the nearby bucket and began filling it with cold water in the sink, and with one hand pulled the _ofuro_ cover down again.

Shirou was a meticulous man whose father did not ascribe to most pieces of Japanese etiquette, so to compensate he made sure to understand and abide by all that he could. He would still make mistakes every now and then, some things just didn't stick, but it was a code he adhered to as best as he could alongside his code of ethics. He threw the bucket of water over his head, shivering as the cold water fell onto him. He put the bucket down and used the nearby soap and shampoo dispensers to scrub himself of both the sweat of that morning and the remnants of last night. Physical cleanliness led to mental cleanliness.

He repeated this process once more, then washed all the soap off one final time before once again pulling away the _ofuro_ cover and checking the temperature. It was a little hotter now, but he hoped that by keeping the heater on, it would get better as he bathed. He decided to get in while leaving it on.

Stepping in and laying down in the water, he closed his eyes and felt everything drain away. The Holy Grail War, dying, school stresses, maintaining his code of ethics; it all disappeared for the moment. It was just him and the water. As if by osmosis, the fatigue seeped out of his bones and muscles. The wear and tear from his morning workout faded. He was in a good place.

"You didn't look this peaceful when you were sleeping."

Like clockwork, his daydreaming broke. His arms rapidly moved from relaxing on the sides of the tub to cover his crotch. He opened his eyes, and there she was, sitting on the stool right next to the _ofuro_. The one he had just sat and washed himself on. He couldn't help but blush.

"C-couldn't you at least have knocked?" All composure was out the window now that the sanctity of the bathroom was obliterated.

She tilted her head and smiled lightly. He turned away from her to stare intently at the wall.

"You're going to get your clothes wet." He mumbled.

"That's not a concern for Servants, I promise." A moment of silence was allowed. "Do you find my visage so ugly that you refuse to look at me any more than necessary?"

He sighed. Once again, he had walked himself into a social minefield, except this wasn't one where making a mistake would just anger the other person. She knew how to twist and manipulate his words, she was an expert in that craft, and a slip-up would let her far past his guard. This was ten thousand times worse than Tohsaka on a bad day.

"No, you've got it wrong." _Delay. Think. What can you tell her?_

"Please enlighten me, then."

"You're... really pretty." _Start with honesty. There is nothing wrong with saying the truth._ "You're the most beautiful woman I've ever met."

"Thank you. But you still refuse to look at me, even now." She pinned him down like a fly on the wall.

"Well..." A pregnant pause hung in the air. "I'm kind of scared of you."

_Alright, guess you're just going full force down the honesty route. Enjoy the hole you just dug for yourself, idiot._

"Ufufufu." There went those tiny giggles again that were way more attractive than they had any right to be. "What do you have to be afraid of?"

"Um..." This was about to get awkward. "I feel like every time I look at you, I'm going to... lose control."

"Lose control of what?" He sunk deeper into the water, trying to hide his ever-reddening face. He inhaled through his nose and tried to compose himself again.

"I feel like you're making me want you in ways that I shouldn't. That I don't want to." It wasn't that it was wrong to feel that attracted to her, it's just that... he didn't want to do that when life had so many more important things to focus on.

Once again, some small silence filled the space, the only thing being heard was the movement of the water in reaction to his shifting around.

A hand cupped his chin, and he was turned to look straight into her _stunningly gorgeous yellow ochre eyes that was already latching into him with hooks of desire that he couldn't stop he couldn't pull out something was wrong something was wrong something's wrong wrong wrong_

"Do you think that I can hurt you?" She asked, and then the spell was lifted and he could breathe again. He took a second to recover.

"...if I say yes, will you?" He asked quietly. It was the first time in his life he felt so small. Even the intimidating presence of Berserker didn't compare to how he felt right now.

Her smile grew a little bigger, but it lacked a certain kind of subtle malice that he had unconsciously noticed before.

"Please, let your Servant assuage your fears." She held out a hand. "May I have your right hand?"

He blushed a little more and gave her what she asked for, still covering his privates with his left. She lightly held it, running her thumb over the back of his hand in a way that sent shivers down his spine.

"Do you see these markings?" He looked down at his hand. His... Command Seals, as he recalled, were somewhat similar in shape to... well, he felt somewhat uncomfortable acknowledging it, but they looked like a light outline of a womb and ovaries.

"These remind you that you have power over me." She placed her other hand under his and used both thumbs to massage his knuckles and the bones beneath them, and the sensation of lightning down his spine intensified. "If you are so terrified, then you can use one of these to order me to never bring harm to you or those you care for."

"I... I don't want to do that." He looked away again, pulling his hand back. "I am scared of you, but... I don't want to... restrict you. I only want to use them if I need your help, or if I want to help you." The fake priest, among other things, did mention that you could use these to boost your Servant's abilities past what is physically possible. It would be a waste to use them on something trivial, like ordering her to clean his house.

"Hmm?" Her voice was inquisitive, though no question was asked. The space between them was quiet once more. Shirou was almost able to get comfortable with it before she spoke again. "You are quite the curious man, Shirou Emiya."

"T-thank you, I think." Phew. Disaster averted.

"There is something that I did not have the chance to learn last night that I would like to ask you about." Her tone lost a little bit of lightness, and he used that to help himself calm down.

"What can I help you with?" He asked, letting himself look at the wall near her. That was probably the closest he was comfortable doing right now.

"No participant in the Holy Grail War was entered without reason." She sounded somewhat similar to when Rin was lecturing him last night, except much easier to listen to. "When those seals appeared on your hand, it meant that the Grail had chosen you. There are certain constants in who is chosen, as at least one member from each of the families who created the Grail system finds a spot reserved for them in each war. Nonetheless, participants are chosen based on what kind of wish they would ask the Grail to grant, or upon some desire they have, whether they know it or not."

"So you're saying that I was selected to fight?" He asked, unable to help the realization.

"Correct." She nodded. "Your place here was not an accident. Now, the question that results from this is..." For the first time, she hesitated. "Well, it's simple. What would you wish for?"

Shirou took a second to think, trying to look inwards to understand what he would want from an all-powerful wish-granting device. His search turned up empty.

"I'm... not sure. I don't really know if there's anything I want..."

"Then let me rephrase the question. What are you fighting in this war for?"

"To save people." He answered instantly. "I want to prevent the death of anyone and everyone caught up in it."

She gave him a long stare, an uncomfortably long one. Shirou had to look away again.

"Shirou Emiya." She pronounced his name slowly, as if coming to a completely new understanding of its meaning. "What does it mean to save someone?"

"To help someone." Again, another instant reply. He was actually able to meet her eye this time. "To pick them up when they're down. To prevent them from being hurt. To stop them from hurting others. To take up their burdens alongside them so that they can meet their challenges head-on."

"Do you think about saving people often?"

"It's my dream. I want to become an Ally of Justice, someone who has dedicated their life to saving others."

"You would save people who have tried to hurt you and those you cared for?"

He nodded once unflinchingly.

"Hmm." Her stare was less intense this time, and though he still couldn't meet it, he was at least able to just look at the wall behind her again.

"What if," she continued, "in the process of saving someone, you accidentally hurt someone else?"

"I wouldn't." He stated resolutely. "A Hero of Justice saves everyone."

"Everyone?"

"No matter what."

"The option will not always be available. You may have to pick and choose who to save at some point, inadvertently leading to someone else being hurt."

"Then I will create a third option in which I save both people." He rolled his shoulders to alleviate some of the stiffness that had built up. He looked at his hands and noticed that they were quite pruned. He had spent a little too long in the bath. "Can you please pass me the larger towel?"

She stared at him for a few more moments before reaching over to pick the towel up, holding her arm out to hand it to him.

"Thank you." He said, and then looked back at her, his cheeks faintly coloring again. "Do you mind turning around?"

The seductive smile was back. "Do you think you have something that I haven't seen before?"

"Uh..." Wasn't she a nun or something? Actually, that made no sense whatsoever, considering the kind of things she wore. "It's not really for you, it's more for me."

"Hmm." There was the little hum again. She leaned on the wall and closed her eyes. Well, he supposed that was the best he could get. He stood up and quickly wrapped the towel around his waist, creating a knot where the two ends met.

"Once," she started speaking again, though her eyes were still closed. "I tried to save others as well. I believed that not only was it my duty, but the entire purpose of my life was to save others. However, in the process of trying to save them... things went wrong. Or wrong according to what I believed was my duty. Many people died."

He had stepped out of the tub by now, using the smaller towel in one hand to dry off the rest of his body from his head down while the other turned the heater to a lower setting, but he was intently listening to her.

"If you were in that position, you would feel hurt, wouldn't you?" She asked, opening her eyes into a lidded position.

"Of course." A shiver ran through his body. "No one should die because of me."

"Mmm." The corners of her lips turned upward a fraction. "I was sad for their loss, but I believed that by the time of their deaths they had been saved. I had saved them, and therefore they were allowed to... move on."

This time it was his turn to look at her intently.

"Is that what saving people means to you?" He asked without hostility, but with very little positivity being conveyed.

"Saving people means to help them find joy and happiness." She said simply. "I believed that I had done that for them."

She got up off the wall and walked to the door, opening it partially before turning back around to look at him.

"I think you will find that your definition of saving people is inflexible, and that you will only find yourself in great pain later on in life."

He frowned.

"Maybe." He said. "But I think that my path will still be righteous, and that I'll be able to die without regrets."

"Hmm." She turned forward once more and began to walk out. "I will pray that you are right." Her tone was halfway to sarcastic, but he did feel that she believed in what she had said.

"Thank you." He said as she left, walking into the washroom and putting on his underwear. It had been a long time since he had had a chance to discuss his ideals with someone else without being outright laughed at, so despite the fact that they disagreed, he found himself coming out of that conversation a little happy.

"Now," He muttered to himself. "Time to start breakfast."

* * *

**Kiara is dangerous. She nearly pushed this story to an M rating. I am trying to limit what I can, but she has Lewdness Rank A++, so it is a challenge. At the same time, though, she is a lot of fun to play Shirou off of. I look forward to developing her plot.**

**Once again, I am extremely grateful for all the assistance Aberron provided. He has now been upgraded to my beta.**

**Thanks for reading.**


	5. Tamamo-no-Mae

Shirou yawned and stretched his arms upwards as he walked out of his room, fully clothed and somewhat ready for what the day was about to bring him. Last night had been long, and though he was lucky enough to escape Illya without being too injured, just dealing with the trauma incurred had caused his nightmares to come back. It was very easy to remember the emptiness that the fire had burned into him, the moment where he had accepted his own death for the first time. In the minutes before he had been saved by his father he had lost everything that made him a person, and what had filled that space since sometimes felt... shallow. Like the person he had become and was continuing to develop was barely anything more than a mask, covering the blank, featureless face of a mannequin.

He opened the door into his dual-living room/kitchen and smelled something appetizing. Looking into his kitchen, he noticed a blue-kimono-clad woman standing in his kitchen, humming to herself. The most prominent of her features was the massive fluffy bronze-colored tail that sprouted out of her back, though he could also spot two animal ears on the crown of her long pink hair that twitched as he entered.

"Good morning, Master~!" Her voice was as sweet as cane sugar. She turned, and her happiness was conveyed through a bright grin and shining amber eyes. "I've already started working on breakfast! Please sit down and relax, I'll bring some tea out in just a sec!"

"Don't worry about it." He couldn't help but smile back. "Let me get my apron on and I'll come help you."

"Oh no no no no," She held up a hand to stop him, working on something with her other hand. "I'm afraid I can't let you do that, Master~! This is Tamamo's job as your new cute foxy wife~!"

He awkwardly laughed. "I thought I said that I wasn't ready to be married..." He did his best to walk around her, but her hand continued to refuse him entry into the kitchen.

"Then consider this as part of the duties of your new cute foxy Servant!" She replied eagerly, tapping him on the chest with her finger.

He took hold of the hand that was attacking him and tried to convey exactly how he felt. "Please, Tamamo-san." He clutched the hand gently, but firmly. She looked right at him, her eyes widening. "I enjoy cooking, and it'd make me happier to do it with you than to just be served by you."

Her cheeks flooded with red, and she looked away, her tail straightening out away from her body.

"W-well, when you put it that way..." She mumbled. "Um... okay."

He smiled. "Thank you. Now, what were you making?"

She coughed loudly as if to clear something from her throat, her tail relaxing to its upright position once more. "I've started on some eggs with furikake, and was about to begin with the miso soup. I was also thinking of making some natto."

"Sounds good to me." He nodded and let go of her hand. "I'll work on the soup and the rice."

"Mm." Her assent was quiet, and so was their work. Surprisingly, despite having never worked in his kitchen once, she knew where all the tools and supplies she needed were, and managed to move around him without interfering with his own tasks. It was as if they were already a long-married couple who could speak without saying anything, knowing what the other was thinking.

That... really wasn't where he wanted to go with that.

"Here you go." He turned around and saw that she was holding a steaming cup of tea in her hand. When did she even have the chance to make that?

"T-thank you." His surprise couldn't be hidden. He took the cup from her and took a sip. It was at just the perfect temperature, hot enough to create a warm, soothing feeling throughout his body as it fell down his esophagus, but not so hot that it burned his tongue. It was a nice _sencha_ brew, slightly sweetened. This was quality tea.

"Of course." She said with a smile, not as bright as before, but just as happy. A brief pause in their work ensued as Shirou took a few more sips of the brew. It helped energize him even further. Before he knew it, he had already made it to the bottom of the glass.

She took it from him and filled it with cold water, placing it in the sink to be washed later, then returned to her own cooking. He looked over and noticed that the pans she was working with seemed a little too small to comfortably serve all of them.

"Remember that it's going to be breakfast for four." He said quietly, turning back to work on the soup.

"Aww." He could almost hear the pout. "I was thinking to make breakfast for just the two of us."

"That's impolite and unkind to Tohsaka-san and Archer." Even if that guy... he really rubbed him the wrong way. Something about his attitude just made Shirou want to...

_That's not something nice to be thinking about someone you barely know._

He shook his head to try to clear those thoughts away.

"Fine, fine." She said, having not noticed his little moment. "I'll make a few more portions."

"Thank you." She smiled at him in response.

The rest of the prep passed in silence. They placed their respective items on the stovetop, with her additionally placing the pot of natto in the oven, and let them cook. Shirou also turned the rice cooker on. She poured out two more glasses of tea from a blue porcelain pitcher he had forgotten he owned, and handed one to him. He drank slower this time, really trying to enjoy the flavor.

"How did you sleep?" She broke the silence.

"Uh... you were sitting right next to my bed the whole night."

"I wasn't looking at you the _whole_ time."

He couldn't help but stare at her for a moment. The emphasis used there made it seem... maybe that wasn't worth thinking about.

"I slept... okay." He said hesitatingly.

"I saw you tossing and turning a little. Were you having some unpleasant dreams?"

"So you _were_ watching me."

"I said I wasn't watching the _whole_ night!"

He couldn't help but laugh, though he tried to at least laugh quietly. She pouted at him again.

"Come on... answer my question." She poked him in the side, which caused him to jitter.

"Um... yeah. But those are normal for me." The nightmares used to come to visit every night. When he was younger, he would sometimes wake up and not be able to fall back asleep, which is actually how he managed to get a lot of cooking practice in.

A hand grabbed his own, and he looked down at her. Her eyes were full of compassion.

"I'm here if you want to talk about them." She was so earnest about wanting to help him that he couldn't help but smile, though he did feel a little uncomfortable.

"I'm not sure what there is to talk about. They just remind me why I do what I do."

"What is it that you do, Master?"

He was about to reply, but the door to the living room slammed open, and he jumped as what looked like a zombie walked in. Wait, no, that was Tohsaka in an opaque white nightdress with her hair undone. _Wow, she does not take to mornings well at all_.

"Guhhhhhhhh." She moaned, slumping onto the table face-down. "Archerrrr. I need some tea. The good stuff you make."

He and Tamamo looked at each other, and he could see her eyes were laughing. He shrugged, pulled a glass out from one of his cabinets, poured some of the _sencha_ brew in, and walked over to her. He set the cup next to her head.

"Here you go, Tohsaka-san." He said quietly. She moaned again but managed to grab onto the cup without spilling it. She lifted her head up and took a sip, and then rapidly turned to face him.

"Emiya-kun?!" The surprise was evident, though he wasn't sure why. She was completely conscious about the fact that she decided to sleep at his house last night, and had paid it no mind, though he definitely felt weird about it.

"Good morning." He nodded and smiled at her, trying to convey nothing but the serene peace of the morning. She looked like she needed it.

"W-w-w-w-w-whu-" She was completely unable to compose herself, her face growing redder by the second. He almost reached out with his hand to check for a fever, but stopped himself at the last second.

"Are you okay?" He asked slowly.

"Master, I think she needs you to step away." Tamamo called over, amusement dripping from her voice. He decided to heed that advice, which was a good idea because in the next instant Tohsaka tried to reach out and grab him, but he was able to quickly put distance between them.

"I-I-IDIOT!" She shouted, chugged down the tea in three big gulps, then ran back out, slamming the door shut behind her again. He turned around, non-understanding written all over his face.

"What did I do?" He asked. She laughed and skipped over, reaching up to pat him on the head.

"Poor Master." She said through her grin. "The heart of a woman remains so mysterious to you. Don't worry, your Servant's heart will always be open to you." She wrapped her arms around him, under his own arms, and he stiffened up. He awkwardly patted her on the back as she stuffed her face into his chest.

"Um... thank you, I guess." She held onto him for a few moments longer, and then let go, beaming up at him. Then she sniffed at the air a few times.

"Oh crap." She stated, then ran back to the kitchen, turning off the stovetop. Only then did Shirou smell it, the light aroma of something burning.

"Are the eggs okay?" He asked, rushing over himself.

"Yes, they're very salvageable." She replied, sighing in relief. "Breakfast is saved!" She twirled the ladle that he had used to taste the soup in her hand, striking a pose with it.

"I'm glad you were here to save it." He smiled. Her attitude was incredibly infectious.

"Mikon~!"

_...That was new_.

"You know," she didn't let him ruminate on that too long, absently stroking the handle of the pan, "when I started to be pulled off of the Throne to be summoned, the Grail kinda shoved a bunch of stuff in my head so that I wouldn't be confused by..." she motioned to his microwave with the ladle she still held, "that kinda thing."

"My microwave?"

She shook her head. "No, everything. Are you familiar with my history at all?"

"Uh... can't say I am, no." Now he was a little uncomfortable. It didn't feel right to summon someone to fight alongside him in a war without really knowing anything about them.

"Well, I won't bore you with the details, they're not that interesting anyway." She turned to him, a wan smile on her face, so inapt he had to take a second look. "To summarize, I was a courtier serving under Emperor Toba during the Heian period. At night, we used candles to walk around the palace. We bathed with the same water we laundered our clothes with. And I certainly couldn't make food anywhere near as quickly as I did in this kitchen, even when I had maidservants assisting me."

"Yeah, we've come a long way..." Shirou didn't really know many details about what life was like back then, but he knew that the quality of life in Japan, and around the world, had risen so much higher compared to even a hundred years ago. The Heian period was almost a thousand years ago; he couldn't imagine what coming from there to here must look like, even with the help of the Grail.

"What stuns me the most is how humanity keeps growing and growing," she mimed something expanding with her hands, "never stopping to enjoy what you have, always seeking to find ways to make it even better. When I was alive, to send a letter to someone down in Kyushu would have taken days, maybe a week or two during the winter. Now you can talk to someone on the other side of the world instantly. It's all so fast..." She looked out the window of his kitchen to his front lawn. Occasionally, the sound of a car passing by wafted into the room.

"Do you miss it?" He asked, trying to understand what she was thinking.

"No." Her reply was fast, curt. "Things are much better here. There's nothing worth going back there for." She looked at him again, her expression so much more cheerful. "Plus, now I have you, my precious Master. Why would I want to be anywhere else?"

He looked away and scratched the back of his head, feeling awkward. Luckily, he didn't have to feel that way for long. The door slammed open once again, he winced for its sake and hoped he wouldn't have to repair it sometime soon, and Tohsaka walked in, this time fully dressed with her hair in its normal twin-tailed state. Her face was serious, though a slight bit of coloring remained. She sat down at the table next to the cup she had left there, took a look at it to find it was empty, and then looked at him.

"I..." she started, only to stop. "The tea was very good. Thank you, Emiya-kun. When is breakfast?"

"Very soon!" Tamamo replied, taking the items off of the stovetop and pulling out dishes to serve them in. Emiya decided not to interfere with her task, and instead got the utensils, plates, and bowls out, bringing them to the table to provide one of each for all sides of the table.

"The tea was Tamamo-san's, not mine." He mentioned, not wanting to take credit for something he didn't do.

"Ah." She didn't say anything more. He placed the last pair of chopsticks onto the plate that would probably be Archer's and went back to his kitchen, grabbing soy sauce and salt. Over the next couple of minutes, the two of them set up the table, with Tohsaka continuing to sit quietly. He wondered if she was going to fall back asleep.

"Where's Archer?" He asked as they finished, both sitting down. Tamamo moved as close as she could to him while still remaining on her side, which was to his left, while Tohsaka was to his right.

"He's outside, keeping watch." She said, then bowed her head. "_Itadakimasu_."

"_Itadakimasu_." Shirou and Tamamo echoed, bowing their heads as well.

"We made a portion for him if he wants to join us." Shirou said, pulling the rice to him and serving Tohsaka first.

"I'll... let him know." She said hesitatingly. "You know Servants don't have to eat, right?"

"Yeah, but we can," Tamamo said, moving her plate closer to Shirou so he could more easily serve her, "and food is good! Why waste the opportunity?"

Tohsaka didn't reply with anything but a look that... Shirou was unable to determine what it communicated. It looked like it was going levels above him, on some sort of secret hidden channel that all women were able to talk to each other on. Instead she took a bite from the rice.

"...this is really good, Emiya-kun." She muttered, eating bigger bites.

"Thanks." He nodded with a small smile.

The rest of the meal passed in silence, with the only sounds being their dishes clinking and people chewing and eating. Tohsaka seemed to loosen up a little as time went on, eating more and more. It always satisfied Shirou to see people enjoying his meals, though he really couldn't call this one entirely his. He looked over to his Servant, who seemed to be politely engaging with her own. She spotted his gaze and smiled at him, causing him to blush and look away. She was really, really pretty.

They finished quickly, and Tohsaka bowed her head once more. "_Gochisousama deshita,_" she enunciated quickly. He and Tamamo began to take the dishes back to the kitchen, though she tried to prevent him from helping. A little bit of the food was wrapped up and saved in case Archer wanted some, or he could use it for another meal.

"Emiya-kun, we need to talk." Tohsaka stated, and he looked at her. She had tightened up once more, a very serious discussion was probably on her mind.

"You can go sit down, I'll take care of the rest." Tamamo muttered. He decided to finally let her take over, and went to sit down at the spot he was eating at previously.

"Alright, let's talk then." He said, putting both of his hands on the table and looking at her. She frowned.

"I... very much appreciate that you let me sleep over after last night." She said, looking down at the table. "I know that you didn't have to."

_You were the one who just decided to do so without any of my input._ He decided not to say that, though. It wouldn't help him to be rude, and plus, he enjoyed helping people, and she needed the help.

"Of course." He replied politely. "It was my pleasure."

"I would like to make an... offer to you." She looked like she was trying to figure out what she wanted to say. Her face scrunched as she thought harder and harder, to the point where Emiya was getting concerned that something was going to break.

"Ah, mou!" She finally shouted and banged her hand on the table. "You aren't worth thinking this hard over!"

"What?" His shock at her abrupt gesture couldn't be contained.

"Listen, you idiot." Ah, but there was the usual Tohsaka that he had been waiting to see this whole time. "You are going to work together with me for the duration of this war."

"I am?"

"Yes, because Caster, despite you holding her back with your terrible magic circuits, is very powerful and can help us keep our territory safe. Archer is well-suited for combat at any range and can be our offense, while she can provide support and defense." She glared at him. "I want to win that stupid cup, and you're only in this to save people, aren't you?"

"Uh, yeah."

"Good. So it's agreed. We're allies now."

"I don't think that's a good idea, Master." Archer faded into view, leaning on the wall behind Tohsaka.

"Why?" She turned to look at him. "Yeah, he's a bonehead, but Caster could really cement our ability to win the war!"

"And what happens in the end," he said, one eye open, glaring right at him, "when it's only the four of us who have to decide who gets the Grail?"

"Well, obviously he's going to give it to me, aren't you?" She turned to look at him, her gaze just as intent-filled as Archer's, though definitely less viscous.

"Um, sure..." He said. "As long as you promise we aren't going to let anyone die."

"Fine, fine, whatever." She waved a hand carelessly.

"Master, what about me?" Tamamo walked over, frowning herself. "I have a wish myself, you know."

"You do?" He turned to look at her. "Wait, do Servants get to wish on the Grail too?"

"Of course!" Tohsaka continued to stare at him like he was an idiot, which in her view he most definitely was. "You think that Heroic Spirits would fight in a war just to beat each other up?"

"I can think of one idiot who would..." Tamamo mumbled. "Lancer didn't seem to want to stop last night until his Master forced him to retreat."

"What's your wish?" He asked Tamamo. Her eyes widened and she covered her chest as if she was stripped before him.

"M-Master!" She cried. "Such an intimate thing to ask your Servant! I thought you said you didn't want to get married yet!" He was not able to notice that she was teasing him, and waved his hands frantically to try to calm her down.

"_In addition_," Archer said through clenched teeth, speaking before Shirou could say anything to soothe his Servant, "I think you overestimate the utility of that boy. He's an arrogant fool who rushes into battles he has no hope of winning, and if we have to fight alongside him, we're going to have to pull him out of the line of fire before he gets killed in an overwhelmingly stupid fashion." His glare intensified even further. "As befitting of an imbecile like Shirou Emiya."

There was only so much Shirou could take.

"What the hell's your problem?" He asked, anger coating his tone as he started getting up from the table.

"Oh, I'm sorry, did I offend you?" Archer replied mockingly, leaning forward. "I didn't think being honest could cut you so deep, Shirou Emiya."

"Archer, stop it!" Tohsaka raised her voice at him, and Archer leaned back, not letting his gaze off of Shirou. Shirou took a deep breath to calm himself down, sitting back down. He felt Tamamo place a hand on his back and took comfort from the silent support she was giving.

"Let's all just... calm down." Tohsaka stated after a moment. "Archer, I understand where you're coming from, but focus on the fact that Caster is as good as she is. And when it comes to just us at the end, well... we'll figure it out when we get there."

She looked back at Shirou, a little softer than before. "Well, Emiya-kun? Do we have a deal?"

He took a second to think it over. He didn't really know much about the mechanics of the war, nor how Tamamo would face against other kinds of opponents than Lancer and Berserker. Tohsaka made a good point; combining their two Servants would make the war a _lot_ easier. And she agreed to not let anyone die, so he could feel comfortable working together with her. The only issue he saw was Archer... but he could control himself. He would just have to do a lot more training so that the anger wouldn't build up.

"Okay," He said after a while. "I'll fight with you."

She smiled at him. "Good. I'm going to my house for a few hours to get some stuff, and then I'll be moving in here."

"M-moving in?!" His eyes widened. "Wait, what? Why would you move in?!"

"Didn't I already tell you?" She asked, tilting her head. "Caster can set up a bounded field and protections on your property to make it virtually impenetrable to other Servants. I'm not going to sleep at my house when I could feel comfortable sleeping at night in yours."

"Uhh..."

"Good, then it's settled." She nodded once, then got up. "I'll be back later today. Once I get back, we can make plans over dinner." She walked to the door. "Come on, Archer. I'll need you to carry some stuff."

Archer glared one last time at Shirou, and he could feel his enmity growing to match the red-clad Servant's. He then faded from view, and Shirou sighed.

"...That man is absolutely infuriating." Tamamo said, her hand rubbing circles in his back. "I don't know how you managed to keep yourself together for so long."

"He's just..." Shirou didn't know how to complete that sentence without getting more angry than he wanted to be. "I don't know why he can't stop insulting me."

"He's just an angry little man who can't help but pick on people weaker than him." She wrapped an arm around him, and this time he sighed and leaned into her. "It's a wonder someone like him became a hero in the first place."

"Yeah..." He mumbled. "He certainly doesn't look like the kind of hero I want to be."

He pulled her arm off of him and grabbed Tohsaka's empty cup and the unused dishes that Archer hadn't touched. If she was going to move in, he needed to buy even more groceries... his living expenses were about to go up. He would somehow need to find time to work a few more shifts at the Copenhagen.

_This war... I hope that it makes me stronger._

* * *

**Tamamo has always been the perfect waifu that ticks off a lot of boxes. She has lore, but you don't have to notice it to fetishize her. I would like to give her a little more than that. She deserves more than that. **

**I continue to be immensely grateful to Aberron, whose assistance and support is invaluable. I can't recommend what he writes enough. If you are into Mass Effect at all, you should check out his story** _**Living an Indoctrinated Dream**_**, which is of much greater quality than what I write.**

**Thanks for reading.**


	6. Cú Chulainn (Lancer)

Shirou landed on the floor with a loud grunt, his arms bruised and screaming in pain. No, actually, that was his entire body. His entire body was bruised purple and screaming in pain. There was not a single part of him that didn't ache at least somewhat. He hadn't been tortured this much since the fire, and at least back then he wasn't entirely conscious. Here, he had no such protections. He tried to push himself back up, but found that his arms refused to listen to his brain's commands.

"Come on, boy." Lancer said, whacking his knee with the blunt end of his spear in a way that he called 'toddler punches' despite it hurting as much as a dump truck driving straight into the area of impact. "You're better than this. You have to get to the point where you can't get up anymore, and then get back up. That's what it means to fight."

Shirou couldn't do anything but groan. Again, he tried to get up, but he still wasn't able to. At the very least, he was able to turn his head to look at his sparring partner. The blue-haired man was decked out in clothing that was way too tight for him - a white t-shirt and grey sweatpants that accentuated his extremely muscular form. In his hand he held his spear, _Gáe Bolg_, a weapon so dangerous that it could warp space-time to stab someone in the heart without fail.

Shirou shuddered to think what it would feel like to be hit by that.

"I... can't move." He barely managed to say.

"Hmph. Guess you're already past that." Lancer sat down next to his head, his spear fading away. "You didn't do so bad, kid. You still have a long, long way to go, but you definitely have potential to be a warrior. I could see you kickin' ass in a few years."

"Thanks..." Shirou muttered.

"Welp, can't just have you laying here." He said, and picked up Shirou by the back of his shirt. Shirou tried to yelp in protest, but it only came out as a gargle of pain. Lancer picked up his shoes and walked out of the dojo, bringing them both to the living room. He set Shirou down next to the table, letting him slump over it and groan in pain. He dropped Shirou's indoor shoes next to him.

"Just a sec, I'm sure you got something in here that can help." He said, walking over to his pantry and searching it like he owned the place. Shirou would have helped him look, but he was too busy trying to stop hurting.

"E-Emiya-kun?!" Tohsaka chose this moment to walk past the door to the kitchen, and upon spotting him, she dropped the box she was carrying and ran over to check on him. "Holy crap, what the hell happened to you?!"

"Just some training." Lancer commented from the kitchen.

"Just some _training_?" She echoed in shock. "What kind of training leaves you semi-unconscious?!"

"Kids these days..." Lancer muttered and shook his head. "This is exactly how I was taught when I was younger, except I was hit a hundred times harder than how I'm tapping him."

"It's okay... Tohsaka-san..." Shirou muttered. "I asked... him... for help..."

"That he did." Lancer said, sipping from a glass of water. "Kid's got potential."

Tohsaka shook her head in disgust. "You can't treat your Master like this every day and expect to win the war!"

"Oi." He replied, somewhat offended. "I'm not gonna beat him up every day. Just every other day. He needs a day to recover in between."

"RRRRRGHHH!" Tohsaka growled, her voice trying to reach out and strangle the man. "Stay right there, and don't touch him!" She said, walking back out right past the box she had dropped.

Only the sound of Shirou's small moans of pain and Lancer sipping loudly at his glass filled the room for a few moments.

"She likes you." Lancer said.

"...What..." Shirou wanted to give him a deadpan stare, but found it too much effort to turn his eyeballs that way.

"She likes you." He repeated. "She wants to bang you. She wants to ride you until you break your d-"

"Okay, I get it!" Shirou managed to yell, then coughed loudly in pain. "Oww..." He moaned.

Lancer chuckled. "You think I'm wrong, don't you?"

"I mean... she calls me an idiot all the time... sometimes she hits me in anger..." Shirou tried to shrug and failed. "I'm not seeing it..."

"Kid, you ever liked a girl as a child?" Lancer said, sitting down next to him, handing him a glass of water with a straw in it. Shirou tried to sip at it but couldn't reach, so he settled for continuing to lay there.

"...No... I never had the chance." He said quietly.

"You got a tragic backstory too?" Lancer raised an eyebrow. "Join the club. Well, anyway, when a boy likes a girl at a young age, he tends to bully the crap out of her. Pull at her hair, throw mud at her, say mean things, all that kinda stuff. The girls never really get it, they just think that boys are freakin' assholes. Which is correct, they totally are, but the little rascals don't really know how to deal with those feelings. You see, that Tohsaka girl is kinda like that."

"...No, sorry, I still don't see it."

"Let me ask you something, then." He got up for a second to bend one of his legs upward so that he could lean on his knee. "You think that a girl would decide to move into your house for no reason? Just because you two are kinda-sorta-allies in this stupid tournament?"

Shirou had no response to that.

"Right. Eventually, if you don't get the point, she's going to sneak into your room one of these nights and you're gonna find yourself tied up, and she's gonna be on top of you, and you won't be able to do anything but sit there and take it. Now granted, it's still gonna rock your socks off if you still got 'em on, but I think you'd have more fun if you could move."

"Come on..." Shirou muttered, blushing a little. "Don't screw with me here."

"You know, when I was younger-"

Lancer didn't get to finish that sentence, as Tohsaka walked back in with a wet rag in her hands. She pressed it against Shirou's forehead, and he moaned in delight as the warmth helped soothe his aching muscles.

"...freaking idiots..." She mumbled under her breath, tilting his head up to gently pour some water from his glass in. He managed to drink from it. Her care was soft, kind, very much unlike her general attitude. Shirou almost gave consideration to what Lancer had said, but threw it away instantly.

_There's no way Tohsaka likes me. She's the top of the class and an excellent magus, and I'm just some random guy caught up in this._

Lancer chose that moment to wink at him. He wanted to groan in response, but refrained. Tohsaka was being very nice right now and he didn't want to do anything to stop her or put her out of that mood.

"I'm going to go out to get some stuff for dinner, since you're clearly incapacitated." Tohsaka said firmly. "I'll have Archer finish moving my stuff in. You're going to stay here and rest."

"Nah, me and the kid are gonna do it." Lancer said flippantly. "He's fine, ain't ya?"

Shirou tried to stand up, and found that he was actually able to without bending over in agonizing pain. He still hurt, there was no stopping that, but this was a more tolerable pain. He could deal with this.

"Yeah... I think I'm better now." He said. "Thanks, Tohsaka-san."

"Oh my f- I can't believe this." Tohsaka's exasperation was palpable. "Fine. You want to go out and hurt yourself even more? Be my guest. Don't come crying to me when you come back with a sprained ankle because you fell down and couldn't control your fall, _dumbass!_" She shouted, stomping out and picking up the box she had dropped, before moving away from the living room in a huff.

Lancer chuckled. "You see? She totally likes you." This time, Shirou was actually able to give him the deadpan stare.

Shirou managed to hobble to the front door, taking his indoor shoes with him to the door, and put on his outdoor shoes when he arrived.

"I'm leaving..." He muttered, grabbing his wallet from a small shelf nearby.

"Yeah, go out and break a leg, idiot!" Somehow, Tohsaka managed to hear him from across the house and yelled at him from that far away. Lancer wiggled his eyebrows at him, and this time Shirou groaned hard.

His hobbling became easier as they walked out, and within a few minutes he was almost managing to walk in a straight line. He occasionally had to lean on nearby objects to help keep himself upright, but for the most part he was getting better faster than he would have expected. It was quite nice.

"So, like I was saying before," Lancer started, making Shirou want to plug his ears, "when I was your age, we used to cut off the foreskins of the guys we killed and presented them to ladies to show them how manly we were."

_That_ caused Shirou to stop in his tracks and stare at Lancer.

"Please stop screwing with me." He said.

"You think I'm kidding?" Lancer's smile was so big he was showing off some of his pointed teeth. "I've seen so many bloody dicks, you could call me a rabbi!" He laughed, then stopped himself, his expression turning serious. "Wait, what the hell's a rabbi...? Man, this Grail stuff is weird."

Shirou hadn't the slightest idea what he was talking about, but he could guess that it was probably somewhat offensive. It sounded like the kind of joke to be offensive. He decided to keep walking.

"I don't think Tohsaka would like it if I... cut off Berserker's..." His mumbling trailed off.

"Nah, she definitely wouldn't." He replied, putting his hands behind his head. "Honestly, she'd probably feel kinda threatened if you did that. Might help you if you have to go fight her later on." He chuckled again, and looked at the signs as they passed into a more commercial section of town. "Hey, is there a butcher shop around here? I bet you could buy a couple pigskins there. They look just the same, you know."

"No... I really don't." He answered neutrally, not finding his words entertaining in the slightest. "Did you use pigs instead of men when you were alive?"

"Are you kidding? My teacher would have never allowed me to do anything halfway. Every single one that I presented to my sweethearts were the real, genuine article." Lancer closed his eyes and sighed wistfully, managing to not hit anything as he walked. "Ah... it was a very different time, though."

Shirou once again found himself speechless. His Servant was so crass that it grated against his traditional Japanese upbringing, but in a way he found it somewhat refreshing. At some point in the future, he felt like he would be able to let his walls down around him. Lancer's brutal honesty made him want to reply in kind.

The rest of the trip was spent in a more comfortable silence, Shirou not really having anything to say and Lancer clearly in his own head, probably reviewing his memories. The sun was tender in its illumination of the planet, and the sky only had a few clouds today. The weather was still chilly, and Shirou somewhat regretted leaving the house without changing out of his exercise clothes. He had a feeling that Tohsaka would have just yelled at him more if he delayed any longer, though. He'd rather not be roared at by a lion if he had the chance to avoid that.

They entered the market section of Fuyuki City, an area where the stalls of local vendors lined up and down the street. The scents of spices wafted around, and Shirou smiled at the opportunity to shop. It was a secret satisfaction of his to manage to find the best prices for ingredients, and sometimes the owner would throw in a little extra because he was a regular customer.

"Hey, Master." Shirou turned to his Servant. "Mind if I borrow some cash? I don't really wanna keep walking around in these."

Ah, yeah. Lancer was larger than Shirou by far, and his clothes left a lot of skin showing. It was getting some weird looks. Shirou took out his wallet and handed him a couple of ¥10,000 bills.

"If you can, please don't spend it all." Shirou said quietly. "I don't really have the chance to work often right now."

"Yep, got it." Lancer nodded, shooting him a smile. "Who knows? Maybe I'll come back with more."

Shirou looked at him skeptically as the man walked off, his arm waving in farewell. Well, even if he did spend it all, it wouldn't be _that_ much of a problem. Shirou had a lot of money left to him from his dad that he kept around for emergencies, trying to make his own living rather than rely on someone else's earnings to survive. But if he was going to have to take a break from working for a few weeks, then it probably wouldn't be that bad to dip into it. That's what he had been saving it for.

He walked down the street, finding his favorite stalls and striking up small talk with each owner, haggling over prices. He was thinking that something with seafood would make for a good meal for tonight, but he also had to buy supplies for a few days. He wasn't sure how much Tohsaka, Archer, and Lancer were going to eat (or whether Archer would partake at all, considering how standoffish he was being), but it was better to be prepared than to be left with hungry guests.

"Oh no boyo," the old man said with a playful smile on his face, "I'm afraid I can't sell any lower than 265 yen for a hundred grams. You're askin' to put me outta business!" He laughed boisterously.

"Come on, jii-san." Shirou said, smiling a small amount beyond what was considered polite. "I was looking up and down the street and saw someone else selling salmon for 235 yen. I only came here because I've been buying from you for so long. You can't even match that price?"

"Hmm..." The old man rubbed his chin between his thumb and index finger. Shirou wanted to sigh, but refrained. He did this every few weeks, and he would say "It's just to keep you on your toes!", but Shirou thought that this guy just enjoyed messing with a youngster.

"Well, fine, I guess I can go down to 240." He grumbled as if he was reluctant to do so, though his grin spoke otherwise. Shirou shook his head at his antics, but happily exchanged some bills for a bag of fresh salmon.

As he said goodbye to the shopkeeper and turned around to walk away, someone slammed into his shoulder, causing him to grunt and accidentally drop the bag of salmon. It spilled all over the sidewalk.

The stranger, who wore a purple hooded cloak that covered everything but lilac lips and pale skin, scowled at him.

"Ignorant fool," a female alto voice emerged from the cloak. "Your clumsiness was your own mistake." She then turned around and walked away as quickly as she had came. Shirou didn't even have a moment to say anything to her before she was gone. Not that he really knew what to say to such a rude person.

"Wow..." The old man said in shock. "People these days... back in my day, she would have stopped and bought you another bag as an apology, and then maybe you could have taken her out on a date."

Shirou looked down at the spilled salmon, frowning in disappointment. He sighed and turned back around.

"Jii-san, could I get another-"

"Don't worry about it, it's on the house." He said, packing another bag. "I'll clean up the mess. You make sure your day goes better than hers."

"Oh no, I couldn't possibly-" But he had already finished and held it out to Shirou.

"Take it, take it!" He shook the bag. "I'll just charge you extra next time!" Another big laugh. Shirou smiled. The man was trying to cheer him up in his own way. He bowed and took the bag, thanking him profusely and walking away, careful not to step in the spill.

Shirou finished the rest of his shopping without any further incidents. He had all the supplies he needed to make koji-cured grilled salmon tomorrow night, while tonight would just be chirashi and rice. He also bought a few more things that would make a sizeable amount of meals over the next few days.

"Oi, kid!" He looked to his right and found Lancer carrying a few plastic bags, decked out in new clothing. He now wore a light blue t-shirt labeled with the katakana transliteration of the English phrase 'you ain't nothing but a hound dog' and some sea green cargo pants. Lancer walked over and raised both bags up.

"My supply run went pretty well, and I even managed to save you some cash!" He grinned and reached into his pocket, handing Shirou a ¥5,000 bill and a ¥2,000 bill, along with some coins. Shirou pocketed it all with some difficulty, being loaded with bags himself.

"Thank you, I appreciate the effort." He replied and began to walk back home.

"Anything interesting happen while I was gone?" Lancer asked casually.

"Mm... not really." Shirou said after a couple of moments. The woman was just another rude passerby, those didn't really get to Shirou by now.

"Did you end up getting a pigskin?" He didn't have to look to know that Lancer was grinning really hard.

Shirou only groaned in response.

* * *

**Lancer is so much fun. He's got the braggadocious older-brother kinda feel to him. It was a real joy to see him interact with Shirou. I wanted to give him his moment after getting beat up so often, both here and in canon. Might do a follow-up to show how much he can kick ass.**

**Sadly, Aberron was unavailable to give this chapter a look over, so any mistakes you find fall solely on me and my shoddy skills. **

**Thanks for reading.**


	7. Mysterious Heroine X 2

**This chapter contains graphic/disturbing content. Reader discretion is advised.**

* * *

"_Itadakimasu_," was the mumble that came from each of the table's three occupants. Miso ramen made for a quick easy meal to prepare, and the slurping of the hot dishes provided the entire ambience of the room for the next few minutes. As she had gotten used to, it was delicious. Her Master, if nothing else (and he really was something else), was an excellent chef. She was normally favorable to snacks like yakitori or nikumaki onigiri, the kind of stuff you'd pick up off a street stall, but her Master took normal Japanese dishes and gave them quality beyond anything she had ever tasted before. It was like living in a dream.

Except it wasn't, because he had nearly died trying to help her last night.

She had watched as the _**Saber**_ had spun around to meet his amateur assault and had torn open his abdomen. She had watched as he screamed, his guts pouring out of him like udon noodles down a bamboo slide. She had watched helplessly as they were spared by the whims of a child, she had watched as the Master who had been so kind to her and supportive of her goal bled out, she had stared at her useless quivering hands as she realized that her single-minded obsession with delivering justice unto her imitators caused one of the only supportive figures she had ever met in her life to nearly die.

She was a failure. She couldn't kill a single _**Saber**_, and she couldn't protect her Master.

The silence hid a tension in the room that she could feel crushing her, forcing her shoulders deeper into their sockets, pushing her ribs down on her lungs. She was barely able to swallow down the savory meal in front of her, but she had to keep going because the taste helped her drown out the screaming in her head.

_You miserable wretch. You pathetic excuse for a person, let alone a Servant. You're disgusting. Hideous. You should have taken that sword instead of Master. You should have been there to protect him. You should have been better. You should have been better. You should have been-_

"Saber?"

She looked up at her Master, his innocent amber eyes looking at her with concern, and for a moment her gaze dropped to the bandages wrapped around his torso.

"Are you okay?" He asked.

"Y-yeah, of course I am, why wouldn't I be?" She couldn't help the shudder that entered her voice.

"...Well..." He hesitated, looking away. "You're crying."

_Huh?_

She put down her chopsticks and lifted a trembling hand to her face, and she felt tears on her cheeks. She wiped them off with her sleeve, sniffled, and tried to smile away the pain.

"No I'm not." She said with a false bravado that fooled no one. "See? I'm perfectly fine."

He did not dignify her with a response. He probably thought that she was worthless, no, he _knew_ that she was worthless. He knew that she failed to stop him from getting hurt, and he must hate her for it.

The rest of the meal continued to pass in silence. Tohsaka didn't look up from her plate, continuing to eat quietly. She had been so loud last night, never shutting up and bullying the heck out of her Master. This felt so unlike that person. It felt wrong. It didn't suit her at all.

_She must hate me too_.

The meal ended with the soft _clack_ of chopsticks being placed on top of bowls.

"_Gochisousama deshita_." Tohsaka muttered under her breath, continuing to look anywhere but her. Her Master picked up all of their dishes, his stare flitting across her in disgust, and she cringed, keeping her gaze down on her thighs as he walked away. She almost wanted to get up and offer to help, but she was scared of him refusing her.

"_You'd only get in the way and probably break them all." _

Yeah. He was right. She was lower than the dust on a cockroach's foot right now. An irritant of an irritant. It was tempting to get up and run back to her room so she could cry in peace, but she knew that she had to face the two of them for what she did last night. They hadn't mentioned it all day, and in fact looked like they hadn't paid much mind to it at all, but she knew that they had to be covering up a deep loathing for her. There was no way they could tolerate her after what she did.

A small "oof" sounded, and she looked up to see her Master sitting back down at the table and placing a bowl of mandarin oranges in the center. He took one and opened it up a little to be easily peeled, then motioned to hand it to her. She considered refusing, but right now she had to take what she could get. She took it from him without saying anything, peeling back the skin and taking small bites of the inner flesh.

It was really good. Far too good for her.

"Saber..." Her Master said quietly. "Can we talk a little?"

She nodded, not trusting her voice.

"I just want to know something..." He paused for a moment. "Are you... really a Saber?"

Anger pierced through her melancholy, a thunderbolt racing through a cloud to hit the ground as fast as possible. The half-eaten orange was crushed in her hand.

"I carry a sword around, _Master_." She couldn't help but hiss, letting the fruit fall onto the table. She _was_ a Saber. It didn't matter that she hadn't been summoned in the Saber class, she was the most Saberlike of any _**Saber **_out there.

"Archer wields two swords." Tohsaka said, still not looking up. "Does that make him a Saber?"

She had to stop herself before she got even more angry at the idea of _another_ _**Saber **_being out there.

"Tohsaka." Her Master whispered, though definitely not low enough for her to even pretend to not hear it. "Not helping."

The other woman looked at her hand, playing with her fingernails.

"I swear to you, Master, that the person sitting before you is a Saber, the truest Saber of them all." She stated, conviction stamped into every word.

"Then why was the other Servant also being called Saber?" He replied.

She slammed her fist onto the table, causing both of them to jump.

"_Because she is an imposter!" _She shouted, the fury of a woman scorned lashing out. "She steals my face, my name, my class, and then presents herself as superior to me! She dared to claim my title, and I cannot _stand_ her and all the others like her!"

She looked up and glared at her Master, a growl etched onto her lips.

"And now the Holy Grail, mocking my dream, decided to put me in the _damn Assassin class_ because apparently I am no better than a _thief preying on innocent passersby for their life and gold!_"

She wanted to scream at the injustice of it all. In fact, she did scream, a scream filled with rage and heartbreak at her failures and her tribulations. The scream echoed in the room for a few seconds, dying down after time, letting the sound of her heavy breathing fill it instead.

"_I..._" She spoke in a low tone. "I have come here to make her kind perish. That is my wish for the Grail. That is why I fight for you, Master. I ask that you please do not insult me by claiming I am anything but a Saber."

He said nothing, only staring at her with a pitiful expression, and then she realized that she had been out of line. She had... lashed out at her Master. She had let her anger take control of her and yelled at him for asking something she could have answered in a heartbeat. Whatever trust or faith her Master had felt for her was shattered because she couldn't keep herself in check.

_What have I done?_

She couldn't take it anymore. She rose from her seat quickly, bowed, and ran out of the living room. Her Master called out after her, but she couldn't respond. Tears were already coming out again, she couldn't hold them back. She ran back to her room and slammed the door shut, jumping onto the bed. She held the pillow against her face and screamed, and was lucky enough to have the pillow muffle most of it. She ripped her cap off and dug her face back in, screaming her pain out.

An iron maiden closed in on her heart, a tight grip held onto her neck. She was suffocating, and yet she could still keep screaming and sobbing. The pillow was being drenched in her snot and her saliva and her tears and her Master would have to wash this because she was an emotional wreck and she couldn't even face him right now because that'd mean she'd have to look at the disappointment in his eyes and it crushed her soul like a tin can and _she wanted to die_.

She curled up in a fetal position, holding the pillow tightly as if it were her lifeboat in a stormy sea. The image of her Master on the ground, his intestines splayed out over the grass like a modern art piece, wouldn't get out of her head. Her mind was torturing her with it, reminding her of the grave mistake she had made.

"_Stop it..._" She whispered through her tears and hiccups. "_I already know I'm a failure... please stop... I can't take it..._"

But she couldn't let go of it. It wouldn't leave. Even worse, her mind transformed the scene in her head, and her Master was staring right at her, amber eyes slowly going blank.

"_You worthless trash._" The memory of her Master spoke to her, its lips barely moving but its voice hissing in disgust. "_I should have gotten rid of my Command Seals while I had the chance. Maybe then you wouldn't have gotten me killed. I can't believe I ever thought you were worth contracting. I would have rather died to Lancer than spent more than a second with you. Go suffocate to death in a ditch, at least then you wouldn't waste any precious oxygen that the rest of us deserve far more than you._"

Every sentence was a harpoon shoved into her stomach. She felt like vomiting. She wanted to run to the bathroom and shove her face into the toilet, maybe drowning herself in her own puke, but didn't want to run the risk of seeing her Master.

_I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry Im sorry im sorry im sorry im sory im s-_

She vomited onto the pillow, the dinner she had just eaten splashing onto it and staining a nauseating array of colors.

"Ahk..." She tried to stop but couldn't. More and more came out: broth, noodles, and eventually bile and blood joined into the mix. It got onto the bed, seeping into the sheets, dripping onto the floor. It felt like her entire intestinal tract was trying to rip itself out of her body in reverse. The agony was fire through her entire being, and blood leaked out of the corners of her mouth, blending in with the splatter paint artwork that she had made.

"Sa...ber...?"

She looked to her door, and her worst fears were confirmed. Her Master was standing there, a shocked expression on his face. A disheveled bang fell across her eyes as she looked back at him.

He turned and ran down the hall, and her soul cracked into pieces.

_Master... I'm sorry... I'm so pathetic..._

She cried some more, kneeling in a puddle of her own bodily fluids. Nausea rose back up in her throat, and she covered her mouth with a hand, trying to keep it down. It was all for naught, though, and she retched, saliva and phlegm coming out in tandem as if to tell her she had nothing left, so why keep going?

_Why keep going, caitiff?_

She distantly heard shouting in her periphery, but ignored it in favor of continuing to retch. Her stomach refused to stop shrieking. Even her own body was rebelling against her for committing such a heinous crime. As if she wasn't hurting herself enough.

_I just want to die..._

Loud footsteps banged their way over from nearby, and her Master appeared once more. His eyes... no, she couldn't even look at them. She didn't want to see his rage. She turned away and whimpered.

Strong arms wrapped around her from behind, and as she was lifted up she gasped. One of the arms disappeared only to make its way under her knees, while the other supported her from behind her shoulders. She was being carried...? She continued to not open her eyes, fearful of what kind of face he was making at her. She could sense him lifting himself up, a huff of exertion coming out of his mouth. They were moving down the hall, she could feel that much.

_We're going to the church. He's going to get his command seals removed right now, and then I'm going to disappear. I'm going to die. He's going to let me die... Master... can you hear me...? Are you going to kill me...? Thank you... thank you so much..._

Another sob choked its way out of her throat, followed by another wave of nausea. This time she tried extra hard to hold it in. Even though he was about to get rid of her, she didn't want to puke all over him too after ruining that room so much. He deserved better than that. He deserved better than her.

The nausea wouldn't recede, though. It didn't care how she felt about her Master, it only wanted to punish her for her transgressions. She groaned while keeping her mouth closed. She refused to open it. Even if she were going to choke on her own bile, she would not-

She was being set down onto the ground. No, it was a floor, a cold tile floor. Was this the bathroom? He wasn't even going to take her to the church, he was going to kill her here? It would make the blood wash away easily...

"Saber, you have to sit up." He murmured, and helped her position herself upright. He tilted her head forward with her neck extended and kept her hair from falling down her face.

"You're in front of the toilet. If you need to keep going, it's right there."

_What...?_

But that was all the trigger her stomach needed. She couldn't hold back the nausea anymore, and her mouth opened and she retched once more, this time with blood spilling out of her mouth, dancing with the saliva and phlegm. She coughed a few times and continued. It was awful. There was no other way to describe it: this was the worst position she had ever been in over the course of her short life.

_Pathetic... disgusting... heinous..._

She couldn't stop insulting herself as she held herself over the porcelain throne. She could feel her Master running a hand down her back, making some attempt at soothing noises that might have made her laugh if she wasn't busy trying to vomit and also in the middle of a spiral of self-loathing.

Eventually, though, all things came to an end, and she spit one last glob of blood into the toilet, breathing heavily and still somewhat worried that her stomach was going to try again. Her Master's hand was rubbing circles in her neck, massaging it. She didn't know if it was actually effective in alleviating stress in the vertebrae there, but right now what was most meaningful to her was that he was touching her. He was reminding her that he was there.

"Saber..." He whispered.

"M-Master..." She stuttered, trying to get a hold of herself, failing. "I-I'm s-s-sorry..."

"It's okay." His arms wrapped around her again, and she leaned back into him, taking comfort in the nook of his gullet. He started to rub a rag against her face, trying to wipe away any remnants of her sickness. Her hair must have felt greasy and disgusting against him right now. "Don't worry about it. I'll take care of the mess. Just... please talk to me. What's going on?"

She whimpered again and turned around, pressing her face into his chest, grabbing ahold of his shirt. She still couldn't look at him.

"I-I-I'm so s-sorry..." She repeated, choking on her words. "I f-f-failed you... l-last night..."

"What...?" His voice was confused. "No... no you didn't... I'm still alive, aren't I?"

"Y-you were _d-dying!_" She raised her voice again, then coughed. Oh no, now she was putting germs on his clothes... "I w-watched you _d-die_ in front of me!"

"But I'm still here, aren't I?" His voice felt like the perfect balm to the pain in her mind. "I'm fine... you don't have to worry, everything's fine..."

"I f-failed you, Master!" This time, she was able to push her head away from him and look him right in the eyes. His face was filled with concern, his eyes reaching out in sympathy to her. "I should have stayed with you, a-and made sure you wouldn't be hurt! _I should have been better!_"

He was silent in response, and she was scared she had went too far. She leaned her head down into his chest, trying to find comfort in his heartbeat. It was steady, a bass drum pounding into her head to the rhythm of his lifeforce. It helped remind her that he was alive.

"...I probably would have been hurt in the line of fire even if you were there." He said after a while. "I didn't want to stand back and let you fight on your own."

"M-_Master!_" She leaned back up and yelled at him. "That's the _point!_ I'm your Servant, I'm fighting _for you!_"

He shook his head.

"I don't agree with that. I don't want you to be fighting by yourself. You could get hurt."

She was stunned, physically stunned. She wasn't sure whether her Master was a _bona fide_ idiot, like how the Tohsaka girl had been calling him all of last night, or if he was way too noble for his own good.

"Master, please." She was able to harness the shock to calm herself down for the moment. "If I am defeated, then you will remain alive. But if you fall in battle, then _we both die._"

He frowned.

"Well... even if you are fighting for me, you can't be next to me all the time." He pointed out. "Maybe an enemy Servant will sneak around you and kill me before you can react."

She shuddered in response to even the thought of that happening.

"So that means that you have to be next to me, instead?" She countered. "You think that you can survive this war when you get in the middle of a battle between Servants?"

"I hate sitting back and doing nothing." He said simply. "That means that I stood by when people could have been saved."

She pounded her forehead into his chest, causing him to make an "oomph" sound.

"You _idiot._" She mumbled. "You absolute _moron._"

"Yeah, Tohsaka says the same thing..." He said, chuckling.

"...Why aren't you getting rid of me...?" She said under her breath, almost against her will. He still picked up on it.

"Why would I?"

"Because..." She shook her head against him. "I couldn't keep you safe last night..."

"So?" The vibration of his voice was centered in his throat, which she could feel nearby to the point of contact with her forehead. It tickled a little. "You were doing great against the other Saber up until I stepped in. I'd be stupid to get rid of you."

She sniffled.

"Really?"

"And besides that," he put his hands on her shoulders and pushed her away, wanting to look her in the eyes. She let him, his amber orbs removing all barriers between them. "I would never throw away a friend like that. You're worth more than that to me."

She couldn't help but let tears well up in her eyes again, and she fell back into his chest. She quietly cried as he rubbed circles in her back, whispering apologies to him over and over again like a mantra. It didn't take long for her to fall asleep against him, the thought that someone actually found value in her pulling off a load that had been on her shoulders for far too long.

* * *

**I normally don't like to write long chapter notes, but I think that you guys deserve some answers.**

**First of all, no, this story is not going to suddenly turn into a dark, gritty monstrosity where people cut themselves and whine about how the world is unfair and consider killing themselves every second. That's not what this chapter is about, and that's not what this story is about. The idea that created this story is Shirou + different Servants. While up until this point, I've mainly focused on how fluffy he is with them (with some exceptions), I cannot, in good faith, ignore the fact that humans (and Servants) are multi-faceted creatures who need to be shown in their entirety.**

**Originally this chapter was just going to be normal dinner stuff, asking about the Saber thing, and have MHX have an angry meltdown. I realized that doing that would not give her a depth of character that I want my characters to have. One of my reviewers literally said that she was less interesting because she's a meme character. I get that. I didn't want to just write a meme character. I wanted to write a person. Perhaps this would be considered "out of character" for the very little background we get on her. To that, I cannot say anything more than I wanted to do something different.**

**I know that some of you will be turned off simply by the fact that this exists, and that I decided to insert darkness in a story that seemed to shine brightly. I am sorry, but again, I cannot in good faith write something that depicts people as without flaws and without pain. Certain chapters and certain segments will be depressing, and perhaps worse than this. But I want you to know that I don't do this just to make people suffer. I do this because I want to see them overcome the pain.**

**One last thing: one of my guest reviewers gave me a good piece of constructive criticism. I have been writing Shirou wrong, in a sense. I ignored the fact that the fire was an extremely traumatic event and that he had been repressing it in his memory, and instead used it as the punchline for some jokes. I sincerely apologize. I don't want to go back to change those mentions right now, but perhaps I will in the future. I can tell you for certain that, going forward, I will treat that topic with a lot more respect. I thank you, anonymous reviewer, for the critique.**

**Once again, I must give my utmost gratitude to my friend Aberron, who despite being on vacation at a family reunion took time out of his evening to give this chapter a look-over. Without him, I would not trust myself to have posted this.**

**Thanks for reading.**


	8. Tamamo-no-Mae 2

On school days, Shirou's morning was only quiet for a small amount of time. He took care of his hygiene within ten minutes after waking up at 06:00. Without practicing in his dojo in the morning, he was able to get himself ready for Fuji-nee to barge in and demand breakfast very quickly. Washing his face one final time with cold water, he made his way into his kitchen, only to find it already occupied by his Servant.

She was humming to herself as she whisked something in a measuring cup, only stopping to greet him when he entered.

"Good morning, Master." She said softly, as if speaking any more loudly would disturb the quiet that had settled over his home. Actually, no, that was likely because Tohsaka was sleeping down the hallway, and she didn't want to wake her.

"Good morning, Tamamo-san." He was still somewhat uncomfortable with a woman who was both older than him and more beautiful than any sunset he had ever seen calling him 'Master', but she was fixated on that. He had been unable to convince her to use any other term for him, apart from the one offer of 'husband', which he outright refused.

"You're going to school today, correct?" She commented as she turned to continue cooking.

"Yeah." He said, walking into the kitchen and taking a look at her work. "Wait, you know how to make Western-style breakfasts? I thought you were from-"

"Please, Master." She flicked her eyes at him, amusement sparkling in them. "I may be an old lady, but I am quite... how do you say it? 'Hip'? I'm very caught up with the modern diet. I am your perfect foxy housewife, after all~." She spun the blue polymer spork in her hand triumphantly.

"Huh." She was cooking an impressive amount of eggs on one of his larger pans while also preparing a mixed vegetable salad, the rice cooker on at the same time. He considered the meal, and realized that she had covered anything and everything that he could help with. He racked his brain for how to assist her.

"You shouldn't have to cook on days you go to school, Master." She said. "Save your energy for your classes."

"I mean..." He scratched the back of his head. "It's always been this way. I've been taking care of myself for a long time now."

"You no longer have to, though." She said with a smile. "You focus on doing what you have to do, and your Servant will take care of all of your needs."

"I..." Shirou really wanted to protest, but he wasn't sure how. She had really closed off all his options to do his normal morning chores.

_Actually_...

"Sakura, my kouhai, will be coming soon." He said, attempting to be casual about mentioning it. It really didn't work. "She likes to help me make breakfast. It's already going to be weird that you're here..."

Her tail flicked once, twice.

"Oho~?"

_Oh no. That's not a nice voice._

She turned to him, something glinting in her eyes. Something frightening.

"Master~?" The lilt in her voice was not as friendly anymore. "Do you mean to tell me that, despite having two perfectly good ladies sleeping in your house, you need to have a third brought over to help satisfy your lusts~?"

His face reddened.

"Hold on, you've got it wrong." He quickly brought his hands up in a surrendering motion.

"No, please." She interrupted, pointing the spork at him. "Go right ahead. Explain to me what it is you need from yet _another _girl who is _not_ your cute, sexy, beautiful, extremely helpful, foxy, and adorable wife Tamamo-no-Mae." Her grin was filled with a kind of playful malice, something that only a fox could convey.

"Uhh... right, yeah, I can explain that." She tapped her foot once. "She... is my friend's little sister. I broke my arm in an accident a couple of years ago." Another tap. "She came over to help me with my chores, and she didn't stop after I healed."

Her right eyebrow lifted upwards a fraction of an inch, the ear on the same side twitching.

"Oyaaaa~?" Her little noise trailed out ominously. "So you're saying you already _had_ a housewife~? You don't need me, _hmmm~?_"

_I've made a mistake._

The door to the living room opened and Tohsaka shuffled in, though this time she was fully-clothed. She still did not seem fully functional, but she had at least composed herself. She yawned as she sat down at the table, turning slowly to look at them.

"Breakfast...?" She mumbled, only managing to turn it into a question at the last second.

Shirou and Tamamo gave one last look at each other. Her eyes sparkled as if to say "This isn't over," and she turned back to finish the meal. Shirou gave up on trying to help and decided to brew some tea for his sleepy schoolmate. He pulled out some of the _wakoucha _leaves he had lying around and started to boil some water. The smell of the tea slowly disseminated into the room, and Tohsaka yawned again.

After a few minutes, he poured out three cups full of steaming tea. He placed one on the counter for Tamamo to have at her leisure, and he took the other two to the table, placing one in front of Tohsaka and one in front of his place. He sat down with his knees bent and sipped at the tea. She came to do the same slowly.

Tohsaka seemed like she was about to speak after taking a few sips, but the moment before anything came out of her mouth, the doorbell rang.

"Ah, that must be Sakura." He said, getting up and placing his tea back on the table. Tohsaka looked at him weirdly as he walked to the door.

"What do you mean, that's Sakura?" She asked, getting up herself. "You're talking about Sakura Matou, Shinji's little sister?"

"Yeah, why?" He said, walking out. She followed close behind him.

"Wha... why is she at your house at..." She checked a nearby clock as they walked past it. "Ten minutes to seven?"

"She always comes over to help with breakfast." It was so natural to him that it took him a moment to realize why Tohsaka was so surprised by it. "But we're not dating!" He stated quickly.

Her look turned into an unamused stare. But it was too late to say anything more, as they had arrived at the entrance. The door slid open.

"Good morning Sen..." Sakura trailed off. He could see her eyes widening.

"Oh, Sakura, hey." He awkwardly chuckled. It had only hit him now that he did not have anything resembling an explanation for the presence of Tohsaka at his house, let alone Tamamo. The situation was rapidly deteriorating. Sakura would misunderstand. He had to figure out-

"Good morning, Matou-san." Tohsaka stated stiffly, nodding at her.

"Tohsaka-senpai...?" She replied quietly.

"Um, Sakura," Shirou said quickly. "I know this looks weird, but-"

"It's very simple." Tohsaka interrupted. "My house is currently undergoing renovations, and Emiya-kun politely offered his house, as I don't have anywhere else to sleep."

"Oh..." The volume of Sakura's voice didn't change. She looked to him, and he looked away.

"Yeah..." He scratched the back of his head, trying (and most definitely failing) to look natural about the lie.

"Um... okay..." Sakura muttered, staring at the ground. Then she stood a little firmer, her gaze rising up once more. "I'm still coming over in the morning, Senpai."

"Right, of course!" He said, smiling at her. No lies necessary for that one. Sakura bowed as she entered and took off her shoes. The three of them walked down the hallway, and Shirou could feel a bead of sweat falling down his neck. There was no way to explain the animal-eared woman who was cooking breakfast right now. He was screwed, completely and utterly-

"Oh, _Danna-sama~!_" Her voice cried happily as she skipped out the door, though she was missing her ears and tail. "Breakfast is finished~!" The lilt in her voice was back in full force, and Shirou almost froze in shock.

She stopped as she spotted the trio.

"Oya?" She said, putting on a surprised air. "Is this the Sakura girl you were speaking of, _Danna-sama~?_" She continued to pronounce his new title as lovingly as possible.

"Uh, y-yeah!" He said, turning around to look at Sakura, who was herself struck stone-still. "Sakura, this is-"

She was right next to him and she grabbed his right arm and now it was inside her large bosom though still on top of her kimono and Shirou's brain refused to respond to anything.

"Hello~!" Her smile was bright and cheerful, so bright that her eyes were closed. "I'm Tamamo~! Danna-sama's father arranged a marriage contract with my father many years ago, and I'm here to see it fulfilled~!" Then she pouted at him. "Buuuut apparently my good father-in-law, may his soul rest in peace, simply forgot about it and never told my new husband, so I'm here to make sure that he understands that no one else will do but Tamamo~!"

She was blinding, like a miniature sun. Shirou couldn't really look at her, but he also didn't want to look at Sakura, so his gaze settled on Tohsaka, who was giving him a deadpan look. He felt like she had some kind of snark just waiting on her tongue, barely able to hold it back.

"U-um..." Sakura mumbled, looking at him. "S-Sen... pai?"

This time he combined his awkward laugh and the awkward head-scratching. "Y-yeah! It's, uhh... it's complicated!"

Tamamo's grip on his arm got just a tad bit tighter. Not enough to hurt, but she made herself known. Well, more known than just having his arm between her breasts.

Sakura kept staring at the ground, and the only response she gave was a silent nod. Shirou, followed by his female companions, walked into the living room. Tamamo had already set up breakfast, with her and Rin on the left side of where he was sitting, and Sakura and an empty spot for his guardian to jump into was on his right. As she sat down, Sakura refused to look at anything but down. She did not say a word apart from an "_Itadakimasu_" when they had all sat down.

Breakfast was abnormally quiet, which disquieted Shirou. Fuji-nee would definitely liven things up, but right now the tension was extremely high. The worst part was that he had the ability to defuse it, he just wasn't sure how.

"Um, Sakura..." He said after eating halfway through his plate, a portion of rice held in his chopsticks. "Has... Shinji been treating you okay?"

_That could not have been more uncomfortable if I had been intentionally trying._

She nodded once, keeping her silence, softly nibbling at some egg.

"Matou-san, how is archery club?" Tohsaka spoke.

"It's going well." Shirou almost breathed a sigh of relief at her reply, though her voice had none of the life he was used to. "We have the district-level competition soon, so we are practicing for that."

"That's good." But that was all she had, apparently. Shirou kicked his brain to figure out how to continue the conversation.

"Is Mitsuzuri doing okay?" He finally said. "How have things been?"

"It's..." She hesitated. "Onii-san..."

"Shinji is still Shinji?" He said, a slight smile on his face, hoping to encourage one on her own. It didn't work.

"Mitsuzuri-san does a lot of work..." She said slowly. "I think she's stressed that we're not going to make it past the district-level this year..." For the first time that meal, she turned to look at him. "Um... I think she is going to ask you to join again very soon."

Shirou made a noise of non-committance.

"M- Danna-sama?" Tamamo interjected. "You used to be in the archery club?"

"Yeah, for a couple of years I was." He said, thinking back. "I broke my hand in that accident last year, though, so I had to leave."

"Why didn't you go back after it healed?" She said, tilting her head.

"Well..." He thought carefully about that answer. "I felt like they had... moved on."

Sakura looked at the table harder, as if that were possible.

"I'm sorry for what onii-san said to you." She said quietly. He gave her another smile.

"It's okay. I know Shinji." His blue-haired friend had thought Shirou was giving up, and pushed him away because of it. The situation was a little more complex than that, but it was a little difficult to explain over breakfast.

He heard the front door slam open.

"Yoohoo! Shirou, I'm hereeee~!" There was Fuji-nee, right on cue. She stomped her way over into the living room, sliding into her spot next to Sakura smoothly. Without looking at anyone, she gulped at the tea cup in front of her until she had reached the bottom, slamming it onto the table once she had finished as if it were a beer can and she had just finished a long day at work.

"Aaaaaaah~!" She sighed. "That's the good stuff. So, what's for-"

She started to perk up, only to finally notice Tohsaka and Tamamo. Her eyes narrowed very quickly, and she slowly turned to Shirou.

"Fuji-nee, Tohsaka is here because her house is, um, under construction." His eyes quickly darted to the mentioned girl, who did nothing to indicate she had noticed him, simply continuing to sit with a practiced smile. "And, uh..."

Tamamo waved with a large grin.

"I'm Tamamo, Darling's bride-to-be~!"

Shirou was sure that if Fuji-nee had still had tea in her mouth, she would have spit it out. As it was, she was sputtering.

"S-S-S-Shirou!" She stood up, pointing at him angrily. "You're too young to have a harem!"

"A what?" He replied, confused. Sakura blushed very deeply, staring holes into the table. Tohsaka stared at Fuji-nee, herself a little perplexed. Tamamo, on the other hand, placed her hand over her mouth, amusement appearing in her eyes once more.

"Why, Fujimura-san," She said, blushing slightly. "Have you come to stake your claim over him as well?"

"NO!" She yelled, turning to her. "I'm his guardian! He just can't be playing with the hearts of this many girls!"

"Please," Tamamo rolled her eyes. "They all know that they can't compete with me. I'm his one-and-only foxy housewife~!"

"Shirou!" She turned back to him. "Explain!"

He was barely following the conversation. He still wasn't sure what Fuji-nee was accusing him of, but it didn't sound like something good.

"Um..." He paused. "Well... Tamamo-san... she..."

"Fujimura-sensei, don't you have to get to school soon?" Tohsaka said without looking at her, causing the older woman to turn to the clock in the room and exclaim in surprise.

"Ugh... damn it, I thought I had more time!" She muttered, staring angrily at him again. "Shirou, you are coming straight home from school and we are going to have a _long conversation!_" He nodded rapidly, trying to get her off his case at this moment as much as possible. She sat down at the table once more, grabbed a bowl and a plate, filled them both up at lightning speed, scarfing the food down even faster somehow, then clapped her hands.

"_Gochisousama deshita!_" She said quickly, jumping up and running out. As she got to the door, she stopped and gave him one last glare, causing him to shiver. Only then did she leave, and the house was quiet once more.

"Wow... you weren't kidding about her, Danna-sama." Tamamo said quietly.

"Please stop calling me that." He mumbled, embarrassed beyond all belief at the title. She winked at him in reply.

"Hmph." Tohsaka breathed out of her nose. "You haven't even been proposed to, how can you keep saying that?"

"Because I know, in the end, he'll say yes." She said with a soft smile on her face. Sakura continued to stare at the table, back inside her shell.

Tohsaka sighed, finished her meal, respectfully said her thanks, then took her plate to the sink. Sakura took her own as well as Fuji-nee's. Shirou was still working through his own plate. He had not had time to partake in too much of it, as the tension in the room and the constant activity kept distracting him. Unsurprisingly, it was very good. Much better than his own food. There was no way he could really compare the two, with her being some kind of important historical figure, but he couldn't help it.

Tamamo cleared most of the serving dishes and brought it to the sink.

"I can take care of the rest," she said.

"Ah, it's okay." Sakura replied, not budging from her spot washing the dishes. "You prepared breakfast, so please let me clean up."

"You have school yourself, don't you?"

"Yes, but I've always done this." Somehow, this didn't quite seem to Shirou like it was just about the dishes.

"Hmm... well, perhaps it's time to let your old habits go. You might find your life improves with their disappearance."

"Sometimes, all that we have left are our old habits." Sakura muttered, almost too quietly for him to hear.

Silence was left between them, though the sound of dishes clanking and water running allowed the room some ambient relief. Tohsaka had already left the room, probably looking to get ready for school herself. Shirou was stuck there, trying to eat quickly so he could do his own preparations. He would have rather stayed around to help Tamamo himself, but the clock was ticking.

He made it quickly to the end of his plate and clapped once, saying his thanks out loud to break the silence. He brought his plate over quickly to try to ease the tension.

"Sakura, why don't we take the long route to school today?" He said. She gave him a strange expression, somehow filled with both hope and melancholy.

"Um..." She thought for a moment, biting her lip, looking down. "Okay, Senpai. I'll meet you at the front door."

She gave Tamamo one last look that Shirou couldn't see, and then walked out of the kitchen. He sighed in relief as she left, the tension leaving with her.

"Master," Tamamo said quietly, "Fujimura-san, despite her eccentricities, was correct."

"Huh?"

"You cannot continue to play with the hearts of maidens as you do." Her eyes bore right into his, though she continued to wash the dishes in front of her without looking. Her ears and tail had popped out once more. "It is unkind and unfair to those who hold feelings for you."

"What are you talking about?" He somewhat understood where she was getting at, but he didn't see a basis for it. Sakura was just a good friend to him, and Rin was only an ally he had made for the cup. There was no way that either of them... liked him in that way.

She raised an eyebrow at him.

"You may play ignorant as much as you like," She said slowly, as if talking to a small child, "but the reality is that you will inevitably hurt those around you. You must provide closure to their feelings."

She smiled at him, breaking the tense expression she had been wearing.

"Especially since, as your friends, you will be planning to give them invitations to our wedding, right, _Danna-sama~?_" There was the lovingly playful voice again, and as if by Pavlovian reaction Shirou blushed in reply. She really knew how to press his buttons.

"Um..." As befitting of a man with as wide of a vocabulary as Shirou Emiya, he could only respond with that. She giggled.

"Go." She said, turning back to the sink. "I will watch over you in spirit while you are away from home. You will be safe."

"Uh... thanks." He said, bowing his head and walking away. Her words had somewhat unsettled him. He wasn't an idiot, he was just a little socially inept. There wasn't any way that either Sakura or Tohsaka had feelings for him, he would have noticed it somehow.

_Right?_

* * *

**I hope that the harem romcom fluff of this chapter helps you recover from last chapter. It was certainly a little cathartic for me. But Tamamo's route won't be made only of fluff, despite her tail being as fluffy as it is. She is beautiful, inside and out, and deserves to have her hurts helped. **

**As always, Aberron walks with me through the valley of ****author's insecurity, and without him as my shepherd I would have been lost a long time ago.**

**Thanks for reading.**


	9. Mash Kyrielight Alter

Shirou had never felt uncomfortable walking the streets of Fuyuki alone at night. They were generally safe, and were he to encounter any problems, he had skills that let him deal with them. Though he did not have much height to his advantage, he had trained enough to deal with petty thugs. He also knew that if he got into trouble, Raiga-jiji would help bail him out. They were quite close, not only through his granddaughter, but through the help that Shirou would provide him on various tasks such as repairing his equipment or accompanying him to hunt game.

But on this evening, under dim moonlight, he was unsettled. It was not a normal night. Something was in the air, he could smell it; a scent of unclean emotions. It was possible that that was emanating from his Servant, but she normally kept distance between them, so he guessed it to be sourced from elsewhere.

His breath fogged in the cold air. Were he trying to prowl stealthily, it would have been a dead giveaway for his position. But Shirou was not the kind of person to consider sneaking, nor was he very good at it. Enemy Servants would have spotted him with ease, so ultimately it would have been useless. He shivered and rubbed his uncovered hands together.

_It was a mistake to leave without gloves_.

He and Sakura had agreed to split up and patrol separately, as they could survey more ground apart. Sakura had initially not wanted to leave him, worried for him as she was, but he convinced her that he would be fine, as his Servant would constantly be watching over him.

Though perhaps that wasn't always for the best.

Shirou had been unnerved from the moment he had summoned her. Her entire being screamed hatred, and from the moment she laid eyes on him she had been hostile. He had tried to placate her as best as he could, but she refused to listen. She batted Archer out of his courtyard, forcing him to retreat, and then immediately began to attack the nearby Servant that had appeared. He had had to use a command seal to stop her, as he realized that she was not going to stop trying to obliterate nearby Servants until he restricted her. She had given him a stormy stare, then faded from view, leaving him to reconcile with Sakura.

The Holy Grail War was a terrifying concept. Perhaps it really was a device that could grant wishes, but was it worth hurting others so deeply for? Did its participants not see the value in human life? Shirou knew that he could not let this continue. He had to win the cup, and to wish on it that this could never happen again.

He had found himself in the industrial district of Fuyuki, a region that harkened back to a more manufactory-oriented era. Very few companies still operated in this sector, as Fuyuki's economy had drastically shifted towards service professions, similar to the rest of Japan. Tall and wide warehouses lined the streets, a few smokestack-decorated factories dispersed throughout to break the monotony. Shadows fell across the road from the buildings, reducing the already faded moonlight to hazy beams that languished in isolation.

Were Shirou to be a man who believed in fate, he would find that the culmination of all these signs to be considered a bad omen. Instead, he only felt troubled as he made the rounds, searching for fellow combatants.

With him being Shirou Emiya, of course, trouble found him.

He turned a corner and stopped. He was on the long side of a warehouse, and a few dozen meters away, on the opposite side of the street and on the roof of the warehouse on that side, sat a silhouette. He couldn't see them very well, only the faint outline of a spear held across their back.

The person jumped down from the roof, and Shirou might have leapt to try to stop them if he didn't think that this were likely a Servant. They easily landed on the ground, shrouding themselves in darkness. Slowly they made their way over to him, and eventually he could see their features in the moonlight. Green hair and golden eyes stood out on his cocky expression. He wore an orange scarf wrapped around dark gray chest armor, and his gait was slow, but confident.

"A little late for a boy like yourself to be out in these parts." He said as he stopped about five meters away in the middle of the road. Shirou remained on the sidewalk.

"You're a Servant, aren't you?" Shirou got straight to the point.

"Wow, no hesitation." The man raised an eyebrow, a small smile appearing. "I can appreciate that kind of bluntness. Yeah, Servant Lancer at your service. You're a Master, I take it?"

Shirou nodded.

"So you know what I'm going to do to you if you don't call your Servant out, right?"

He grimaced. "I was hoping we could talk for a minute."

Lancer's expression become even more amused.

"Well, we've got all night, I guess." He shrugged, pulling his spear off of his back and leaning on it. "What's up?"

"Why are you fighting in this war?" Shirou asked. Lancer blinked a few times.

"A bit too blunt there, kiddo, but I'll humor you." He thought for a moment, his expression turning melancholy. "Well... I lost a friend a long time ago because I made a series of stupid mistakes. I was..." Here he smiled sadly. "I was a real idiot. I valued all the wrong things, and was so arrogant that I got him killed. That's pretty much it." He shrugged, though his smile turned a little brighter after that. "Though I'm certainly not going to turn down a good fight when I see it."

"You'd kill other people to get him back?" Shirou asked. "Innocent people who were caught up in this war?"

Lancer snorted.

"Kid, you do understand the definition of war, right?" He smirked at him. "There's no such thing as innocents, only different kinds of targets."

Shirou clenched his fists. "How can you say that? Don't you have any respect for other people?"

With that, the man laughed. No, that wasn't enough to describe it. He leaned even harder on his lance, and as he guffawed tears rolled down his face.

"Heh..." He said after recovering. "That's a good joke, kid. Respect, right. Why should I respect people I don't even know?" He looked back up at Shirou. "Respect is earned, you know. It's not something that I'm just going to hand out to every dumbass I see."

"Is that what you think is right?" Shirou could not hide his offense.

"Alright, you seem like a guy with a decent heart, so I'm gonna let you in on a secret." Lancer took a few more steps and leaned forward, covering one side of his mouth with his hand as if he were literally whispering a secret. "I'd recommend that you get the hell out of this war before you become a casualty, boy. You really don't have any idea what's in store for you here. This kind of thing will crush you, tear you apart, and spit your pieces into the mud. If you don't have someone helping you out, and as your Servant isn't right here it kinda looks that way, you're gonna end up like Ajax or Menilaus."

_Those names. They have to be something related to his legend. I don't know them, though... who is this guy?_

"If you survive," he continued, "you might become the kind of guy to make a legend out of yourself. If you manage to win, though? A victory like that will be hollow, as you have neither the experience nor the merit to deserve a victory or even a defeat. Your body will decompose and your actions will not have a _single iota of value_ behind them." The man's voice was getting more intense, near to anger, though after a pause it softened. "What are you fighting for, really?"

"I'm here to save people." Shirou stated. "I'm going to be a hero."

The man grinned, his eyes lacking joy.

"Oh... a hero, are you?" He said slowly. "Well, then. Do you think you could stay a hero after all that you fight for and every reason you have to live dies? Do you think that's a life worth living? Do you still think you could want to save people then?"

Shirou's gaze went to the ground. He didn't know how to answer. He licked his lips.

"That's right." Lancer said after a few moments. "If that's the kind of resolve you have, then you don't have any chance of winning. So bring out your Servant already. Let's fight so I can end your miserable life before you have a chance to turn yourself into a... hero." He scoffed at the word, mocking everything Shirou had built his life to be up until this point.

Shirou closed his eyes and clenched his teeth. He was trying to control the feelings that were bubbling up inside, but it was so hard. Something was screaming to hurt this person, but he was fighting against it because that wasn't right. Even this man, as awful as he was, should be saved.

Footsteps approached ever closer.

"Are you just going to stand there and let me kill you? That's really pathetic. You really, seriously think that you can be a hero like that?"

"...you're wrong." Shirou muttered tensely.

"Yeah? What am I wrong about?" Shirou looked up and saw that his grin had not disappeared. The spear was pointed in his direction, ready to plunge into his heart at a moment's notice.

"It's exactly because of that resolve that I'm going to be a hero. A hero who saves everyone, even you."

The man laughed again, a sound that echoed up and down the street.

"You're a riot, kid." His smile dulled just a little. "Been a pleasure talkin' with ya."

The spear started on a path towards his heart. Shirou knew that he couldn't avoid it, there was no way to dodge. This guy was way faster than him and could murder him from any position. This might've been the moment where he died, for the first and last time, but his Servant had other ideas.

She would have appeared soundlessly if not for her scream, a noise that conveyed a mess of hatred, sorrow, rage, and so much more that he could not find words for. Her spear, a crimson tri-pronged lance, thrust itself forward, just barely missing his head by centimeters. The spear pushed the man's own javelin downwards into the ground. She braced a hand on his shoulder and leapt, letting go of her own spear and trying to maul the man onto the ground. The force of her hand on his shoulder nearly drove him into the ground, but he tried to stay upright to provide her with leverage.

"Whoa!" Lancer threw himself back, barely managing to hold onto his lance. She landed on the ground right in front of him in a crouched position. Her lilac hair contoured itself around an angry expression, russet eyes glaring furiously. Her armor was a spectrum of white to light gray, highlighted on its edges in blood-red. The armor only left her sides and her back exposed, showing off a tattoo similar in shape to her spear. Her elbows, wrists, knees, ankles, and the toe of her stiletto boots all had spikes protruding from them, and she looked ready to use every piece of her equipment to pummel the man into the ground.

She reached back and grabbed her own spear, holding it diagonally across her torso, pointed upwards.

"Hey there, lil' missy..." He said with a strained smile. "You're a fierce kitty, huh?"

She said nothing in return. Shirou could feel the tension in the air, solidifying around him. She huffed, the air fogging around her nose, and then lunged forward with her lance in an attempt to impale him. He dodged, lightly touching the two shafts to deflect her weapon, then swept it across her torso, though it didn't pierce her white armor nor touch the bare skin of her sides. She was able to sway away slightly.

She used her momentum to roll to her left, swinging the spear as she did so to block any potential attacks, which caught him as he tried to hit her from behind. As she came out of her roll, he jumped, turning 360 degrees to provide angular momentum so that he could drive the spear into her with force. She launched her own spear forward, parrying his, and then twisted her lance slightly so that it was caught between two of the prongs of her own spear. She smiled.

"Got you." She spoke her first words with a grim satisfaction.

Lancer let go of his spear once he realized it was stuck, jumping back, though she did not follow up on him. Instead, she took his spear out from where it was caught, and wielded it with her left hand. He sniffed, clenching and unclenching his fists.

"Yeah." He said. "You got me."

Then he ran forward with one fist held back to try to strike her. She met him with the spike of his own spear, but at the last moment he moved his arm to catch the shaft of his spear in his right elbow. He quickly followed up with a jab at her face, which she barely dodged as she tried to stick her lance into his side, missing. She let go of his javelin to twist away from his subsequent attack, and as she turned she threw a kick at his face with the spike on her left heel. He evaded and grabbed onto her shin, spinning her around and throwing her into the warehouse that Shirou was next to. She cried as she slammed into the wall, leaving a deep indent into the sheet metal.

_How the hell did she not break through the wall?_

Shirou watched their clashing from the sidelines, feeling helpless. He wished he could contribute, but their strength was so beyond him, and he got the feeling that if he got in the way, his Servant might just attack him too.

She fell onto the ground but quickly recovered, the only sign of injury being a small trail of blood leaking out of her mouth. She coughed, spitting some out onto the ground, then threw herself forward again into battle. He stopped her advance with a block, locking the two spears together at their tips.

"Man, I'm almost enjoying this!" Lancer said happily, grinning brightly as they closed in on each other. "You ain't half bad!"

She did not dignify him with a response, only pulling back a little to throw a sidekick at his torso, which he eluded while spinning his spear at the leg that was supporting her. She jumped, switching legs, and threw another back kick at his head, which he dodged once more.

"I like how much you show off your legs!" He teased as he threw himself away from another blow. She growled in return, rotating her spear to try to hit him with the backside that was tipped with a double cross. He met it with the tip of his spear, and she tried to twist her grip so that she would hit his arm with the spike on her wrist, though was unable to do so fast enough to catch him. He ducked, pulling back his spear to jab at her exposed side, and this time he was able to leave a small cut.

She hissed and moved backwards, pushing him away with the shaft of her lance. He let himself be forced back, smirking as she panted in exertion. He leaned on his spear as casually as he had been doing when he had been talking to Shirou.

"You're nearly to the point of giving me a challenge, girly." He spoke calmly, with only a hint of smugness coming out. "But not quite there yet. I'm sad I can't stick around to keep going, but my Master's got other plans for me tonight. Hope to see you soon!"

He waved, gave a laugh, and then faded from view.

Avenger's grip on her spear tightened, and she slouched forward slightly, her hair drooping with her to cover her face. Shirou slowly walked towards her, stopping just a few steps behind her.

"Uh... Avenger...?" He said quietly. "Are you okay?"

"Do I look like I'm fucking okay, _Senpai?_" She snarled. He let that hang in the air for a few moments, unsure how to respond. That was the longest sentence she'd ever spoken to him, and he definitely wasn't expecting to be called senior to her.

"...for what it's worth, I think you could have beaten him." He said after a while.

"Then you're both blind and dumb." She turned, one amber orb glaring at him, the other covered by her hair. "He had me cornered at every turn. I might have been able to take him down if you weren't such a _useless piece of shit who can't even supply enough Od to fill a stein glass._"

Her harsh words dug into him, and he physically recoiled. Shirou already knew he was a terrible Magus, but she used that fact to hurt him. She really wanted to see him in pain.

"I have skills that could have been used to weaken him." She continued. "If I had a normal Master, a _competent _Master, then he wouldn't have been able to run away. But you're just a fucking chain around my neck, so obsessed with saving other people that you can't even see an enemy when they're standing in front of you. You aren't even worth enough to be called useless, _Senpai._"

With that said, she faded from view once more, leaving Shirou alone in the street with only his thoughts for company. Thoughts that were slowly turning towards the negative. He thought that maybe tonight could have been useful in terms of figuring out what the other participants in this war were going to be like. It was possible that they were the kind of people that could be reasoned with, perhaps convinced to end this war peacefully and without any lives lost.

Instead he encountered a Servant who had a disregard for human life he couldn't have ever imagined possible, his Servant lost the fight with him, and then told him he was lower than garbage. No, things really did not go how he had wished them to.

_I hope Sakura had a better night than me..._

* * *

**Mash Alter is not an OC of mine. There is a non-h doujin floating around on the internet called Grand/Order Alternative, a completely different telling of the Grand Order. All that is translated is a few materials on her, and so I tried to use that to depict her here. If, in the future, this doujin gets a full translation, then it is possible my depiction of her will differ from 'canon'. My apologies if I misunderstand her character, future reader.**

**Aberron continues to have my eternal gratitude, in particular due to his help with Lancer. He has a grasp of Greek History that few can match, so his aid was essential to characterize Lancer.**

**Today's ending theme is **_Afterburner_ **by Power Glove.**

**Thanks for reading.**


	10. Iskandar

The flickering of flames provided the ambience as he stood across from the golden-haired Servant. Gilgamesh's red eyes drilled into him in disdain, as if this entire scenario was too meaningless to even be worth putting any kind of anger into it. His insults had been expended, Shirou had replied in kind, and now it was just the two of them facing one another.

He started his aria.

"_My body is made of swords._"

The Archer smirked and leaned back, crossing his arms.

"Oho? So this is how you think you will win?" To call him smug would be an insult, and he would have probably been killed for saying that out loud. "I will let you attempt this. It should make for a good minute's entertainment."

"_My blood is of iron and my heart of glass._"

Shirou could feel his circuits burning as they activated, one-by-one. The... connection he and Tohsaka had formed last night so that he could produce the Reality Marble was strong, and he could feel her prana rushing into his body. But it hurt like hell, as his magic circuits were quite raw from underutilization.

"_I have overcome countless battlefields._"

The journey that had brought him to this point had been long and traumatizing. He could still remember seeing the man in front of him tear into Illya's small body, her expression of pain etched into his memory as yet another life that he just couldn't save. The anger at that fueled him to go further.

"_Not even once retreating,_"

Shirou knew that there was something wrong with him; that he did not see the world as most people did. His distortion had been evident from a young age. He knew wanting to save everyone was an unrealistic goal, but he decided, even after fighting with a future version of himself that had found himself jaded and cynical in the pursuit of that ideal, that it was nonetheless worthy of pursuing.

"_Not even once being victorious._"

The look on Tohsaka- no. She was Rin now. The look on her face when she finally came to understand that actually made his stomach tumble a little. His schoolboy crush on her had definitely developed into something more over the course of the War, and now that they were... in a relationship greater than an alliance, her opinion of him mattered much more to him than the average person he knew. He hoped she would understand if he had to sacrifice himself here. It was never wrong to want to save others.

"_The bearer lies here alone, forging iron on a hill of swords._"

A month ago, he could not have seen the culmination of his dream to have come to this moment. He thought he might have been a police officer or a lawyer or something similar. But events swept him up and over, and now he was fighting someone who exceeded his skills so greatly that he was only allowed to live because it was funny to the other man. He could not find it in himself to care, though.

"_Thus, my life needs no meaning._"

Precisely. Or rather, the whole meaning of his life was to _be_ a sword. He was a weapon of Justice, and whether he bent or broke, he would never stop fighting to see a world where no one cried. That was the dream of Shirou Emiya.

"_As this body... is made out of infinite swords._"

His world was dust and ash. It was a silent plain wounded with hundreds upon hundreds of swords. It was-

"This is it?" The red-eyed blonde scoffed. "This is all that you can bring as a last stand? A world of swords?"

Shirou grew even colder. "Yes. I will face you with everything I have."

A few yellow portals opened up behind the man, and as weapons slowly emerged from them, Shirou's eyes scanned over and Traced them, each of them being loaded up in the action of his mind.

"Then die in the grave you have dug for yourself, mongrel." The Archer did not move, but his weapons flew forward out of their portals. Shirou let his copies of them appear and fire from behind him, deflecting each of their counterparts into the ground. The man's expression instantly soured.

"You _dare?!_" He screamed, and dozens of more portals opened behind him, each of them loaded with their own unique Noble Phantasms. Shirou Traced each one of them, but despite the Od that Rin was supplying, he knew he could not match every one of them. Instead, while most of the copies were forming behind him, two falchions of opposing colors settled into his hands.

Archer's swords fit him far too much for his liking, but he needed to be more than he, as a human, was limited to be. There was no way to win with what he had.

As the multitude of weapons flew out of their gates, he met a good portion of them with his own, though many were left to drive themselves into his body. The memory of Archer's combat ability flooded through his mind from the blades in his hands, and in the span of a few seconds he was able to deflect everything thrown at him.

"_Insolent-!_"

But he did not have time to breathe. More and more, he was unable to move forward as the onslaught of blades poured onto him. He met them as best as he could, and with every impact the swords in his hands cracked just a little bit more.

_Even my copies aren't as good as his_.

Further copies of his enemy's weapons flew out from the ground as soon as he Traced them, clashing together in a symphony of steel. Shirou ducked, rolled, dodged to the side, trying to make his way over to the Servant, but as he was beset by fire on all sides, he was stuck parrying. It did not take very long for the falchions in his hands to crumble to dust. He was only barely able to reform them in time to keep his defense up.

He got sick of stagnating like that after a while, and decided to play on the offense. He risked taking more damage by using a few less Traced blades to deflect incoming weapons, instead firing them at the Servant. The red-eyed Archer clicked his tongue, distracted for the moment by the incoming weapons. That was Shirou's chance.

He spotted an opening and took it, springing forward through a particular gap in the rain of swords, Tracing more weapons to launch at the Archer. He quickly closed the distance between them, and muscle memory that he didn't really know but felt allowed him to throw his swords towards Gilgamesh in two long arcs. He projected two more and threw himself into melee with the Servant.

Or at least he would have, if the man didn't glare at him, and without moving opened up three portals right ahead of him on his left side. He rapidly evaded each weapon launched at him, though the back of a poleaxe got a scratch off on his shoulder. The wound burned in more pain than it should have, and he realized it was probably cursed. It would likely get worse as the battle protracted onwards. He had to finish quickly.

Tracing a dozen of the weapons he had seen, he had them shoot forward at the blonde-haired Archer, who growled and opened up a hundred times as many portals to shoot at him. They surrounded him in a dome, no gaps to rush through this time. Absently he noted that the man simply moved side to let the weapons he had shot rush by him.

"To plagiarize from the King's treasury..." Gilgamesh scowled even more deeply. "Suffer and die, _Faker._"

Only one way to escape this situation popped into Shirou's mind, memories that weren't his flashing in his mind. He held his right arm out, clutching the forearm with his left, and channeled as much od through his magic circuits as he could, his entire body lighting on fire.

As the weapons launched forward, he spoke.

"_Rho Aias!_"

Seven purple petals surrounded him in their own dome, brightly shining in defiance of his imminent death. Then, they all impacted, and six of the seven layers cracked violently, the last one barely straining to hold up. Shirou dismissed it as fast as he could, and he ran through the smoke, trying to follow up on the bombardment quickly.

He lunged forward with a knee to try to drive it into the golden-haired Archer's stomach, but the man just turned to the side and let another blade drop into his hand, slashing it towards Shirou. Shirou's circuits burned as he instantly projected the exact same weapon, slamming the fake against its origin.

"You-!" Another blade into his other hand, another Trace, and the clash continued. It repeated like this over and over, Gilgamesh growing increasingly furious as time went on. Shirou's entire body was on fire in exertion, his magic circuits screaming at him to stop as he kept doing irreparable damage to himself. But he could not stop. This was the only enemy in this entire War that he had the ability to defeat by himself. He had to do it, not only to give time for the Grail to be destroyed, but to prove to himself that he had it in him to defeat people who could not be saved.

And if there was anyone out there who did not deserve to be saved, it was the arrogant king that he faced at this moment.

Shirou was still facing a Heroic Spirit, though, and despite the fact that he was able to match him with Noble Phantasms, he could not match his strength or endurance. The man was getting angrier, and eventually he lost his patience and kicked Shirou in the side, sending him flying away with the unexpected attack. His snarl of rage echoed in the now quiet landscape.

"To force me to use this on a filthy _mongrel_..." He said, and a portal opened up above his right hand. Out of it fell a s̶̛͉̬̭̐̒̀͊̾͑͐̈̐͑̍̍̑͘w̷̬̝͛̄̐̾̀̍͊͝ơ̵̧̛̞̺̤̬̒́̏̂̆̀́̄͒͝͠r̴̩͍͈̙̀͌̐̔̀͒̏͝d̴̛̹̘͐̕ a weapon that he couldn't even look at because to do so felt like stabbing knives into his brain like every blade in his Reality Marble shot into him and diced him into pieces because there was something wrong with that s̷̛͚̗̋͜͝w̷̢̡̞̗̳̞̙̮̅̓̾̈́o̷̰̫̤̭̱̣̼̠̒̆͛͆͝r̶̡̯̩̺̟͖͚̬͚̎̂̃͊̚d̴̨̨̛͓͖̙̜͔̰͓͓̾̉̒͗͂͘͝ there was something unearthly about it and it hurt so much just to try to understand it what was it what was that _monster_

"You are permitted to feel proud in this moment, Faker." Gilgamesh spoke, pointing the tip at him. "You have beaten me, and you may die with that satisfaction."

The three cylinders that made up the weapon's shaft began to spin, and a red orb appeared on its tip, growing in size quickly.

"_Enuma..._" The Archer enunciated, glaring holes into Shirou's being as he held himself in pain, facing an even more imminent death. He began to feel the Reality Marble crumble as the effects of the Noble Phantasm took hold. His world was dying, as he was dying.

He closed his eyes and pictured Rin's smile one last time. He hoped she and Rider could stop Gilgamesh together.

"_ELISH!_"

A bright flash of red light sped towards him. Time to die.

"_IONIAN HETAIROI!_"

A large, rough hand grabbed hold of him by his shirt and dragged him to the side. His world of dust and ash exploded into flames, collapsing under the weight of both the blonde Archer's Noble Phantasm and another Reality Marble imprinting itself upon Gaia. Shirou's mind was torn into pieces and then reforged in a furnace, hammered into steel once more on an anvil. He felt himself coming together again. He could feel himself once more.

He was alive.

He looked up, and the grinning face of his Servant stared back at him.

"What kind of fool move was that, boy?!" Iskandar bellowed at his usual volume. "What have I taught you about approaching a foe!" Despite his beration, the Servant laughed loudly, stepping in front of Shirou. "My apologies for my rudeness. The Grail was an enemy that could not be beaten with a sword, so we had to get creative. I was delayed with its neutralization."

He paused.

"Also, your woman says that you need to hurry up and finish, as she is exhausting herself from supplying us both."

Shirou blushed, causing the much bigger man to laugh uproariously. He then stood up, realizing that the two of them were at the head of a massive army, armored men of ancient origin that had followed his Servant to what was considered the ends of the known world. He had already been told that Rider had a power like this, but to see it in person, even after having dealt with his own Reality Marble, was a sight unto itself. Every single soldier was smiling, grinning at the prospect of battle coming once again.

"To think that we would meet once more, King of Conquerors..." He turned, and saw Gilgamesh standing a few dozen meters away on his own, the blade that had traumatized him so deeply nowhere to be found. "It would be a pleasant moment had you not allied yourself with a thief such as that."

"King of Heroes!" Iskander boomed right back, as if they were not on opposing sides of a battlefield. "I too wish we had been able to see each other under better circumstances! Yet, at the same time, you are not the same man that I had the pleasure of knowing during the last War, so perhaps it would have been better that we had stayed apart."

"Perhaps so." Gilgamesh brushed him off. "Do you remember when you offered your fellow Kings positions in your army? Amongst your trinkets? Perhaps I shall strip them from you if you do not retreat now. Your current Master cannot compare to those of the last war." The blonde seemed to grow larger where he stood. "As we are to match blades again, I will have more punitive measures taken against you than our last encounter. If I am to win, this time I will erase you from Alaya's memory. None have defied my will thrice, and I shall not allow it."

"Aika." Iskandar barked. Gilgamesh frowned, as if that was more of an insult than anything else so far. Seeing Shirou's confusion, the Servant nudged him with a gigantic elbow. "_If!_" He said, laughing hard. "You never conquered Laconia, either."

"Tch." Gilgamesh expressed. "You come at the end of your legend, King of Conquerors. To an enemy you have already lost to once. The battlefield does not suit you, and the man you claim to be has become lesser over the decade since I saw you last. I have more prana, and the game has come to its obvious conclusion. The Grail is mine, as Alaya decreed so long ago!"

Iskandar shook his head in disgust.

"You gave up on your desires, King of Heroes." Rider said coldly. "The man I fought, the man who killed me, he would never have succumbed to such weakness! You claimed that all the world bowed to your wisdom, and yet the world gave you the second chance I never received!" He held out his hands in front of everyone. "You gained the wish I had for the Grail, Gilgamesh. You had an entire decade to reclaim that which you claim was your own. When we sat together as kings and compared our wishes, we saw each other as equals. Yet the man I see tonight has given up all hope of victory. The Grail brought you back, and you refused its fondest wish!"

He chuckled. "That is why you shall never win here, Gilgamesh. I carry with me the spirit of victory itself! Nike forgive me for saying this, but you cannot embody her spirit when you spit upon her boon!" He gave Shirou a look filled with pride, then turned back to the Archer. "My Master has never refused a battle, never denied a challenge. You refused every offer, slunk like a rat in a gilded coffin. You are no King of Heroes, Gilgamesh. Your impartial and godly nature has overcome your human soul!" Iskandar's tone grew with each sentence, until his voice was echoing across the entire battlefield. "You have become as the Gods, impudent and jaundiced with ignorance!"

Gilgamesh had no eyes for Shirou or the army. His gaze was filled with fire and death. "You dare?!"

"I am the man who defeated the Gordian Knot! The Empire that gave birth to the pantheon of fire! Zoroaster himself crowned me king of the same land you were crowned in, and yet today I stand more worthy of it than you ever shall. For in your current life you have conquered nothing. You have defeated no one. You are the King of Cravens, Gilgamesh. Ares wouldn't give you a second glance, and neither shall I. Your corpse will be dragged behind my chariot for all to see, and my Master shall eat of your bread and take of your women and treasures." Iskandar smiled cheerfully. "I believe he has already completed half the job."

He put his hand on Shirou's shoulder, bending over to stage-whisper in his ear, which meant a normal speaking volume for the large Servant.

"A wise man once said that one of the strangest things one can find in our world is an aged tyrant." He grinned as Gilgamesh's expression grew even more incensed. "The best example stands right in front of us."

The red-eyed Archer somehow did not have the vocabulary to respond to Iskandar. He had expended it all mocking Shirou, and now he was left with nothing to riposte. He could only seethe, staring at a foe he had once respected almost as much as his only friend. The time for words was over.

Shirou watched as a numerous amount of portals, greater than the amount he had faced just earlier, appeared behind and above Gilgamesh, stretching endlessly up to the blue sky and across the dunes of sand. A massive barrage was about to arrive. In response, Iskandar stood even higher, and addressed his army.

"_My friends_! I am the embodiment of all those that seek another sunrise! I am the king who shall conquer the world of the future and the world of the past! Every man who dreams of taking more than what he currently has empowers me further!" Iskandar's speed was that of the fastest of Servants. Shirou could only be carried in the wake of his steps and his personality. "Send out your chains, Godling! You who refuse your human nature! You who ended the Age of Gods and began the Age of Heroes, usher in the new era with your death!"

Shirou felt his heartbeat pound like a drum, heard it thunder in his ears. The charisma of the man that stood beside him was overpowering, even to his distorted self, and he knew that from now on, he too would follow his King wherever he led. There was no question in his mind that Iskandar was anything less than his prophecy. No, the man was greater than that.

But Gilgamesh was the King of Heroes, and he rightfully claimed that the world and its treasures belonged to him. Iskandar had brought an army. To Shirou's eyes, he knew that the golden portals ahead were more than just the weapons being launched. There were swords and arrows that were made to destroy armies like this one. His eyes twitched as his natural Tracing ability affirmed the fact. At least a dozen of the weapons closest to the blonde were designed for just that.

This didn't phase Iskandar in the slightest. "Toxotes!" He bellowed. "I will fight in the shade!" He raised a hand, and to his side rushed a beautiful black horse, rippling in power. But Shirou couldn't afford to take his eyes off of their enemy, though he felt the moment that every single archer in the army released all of their arrows. The light inside the reality marble dimmed, as thousands upon thousands of shafts were given. "Peltasts!" He added, mounting his horse as every infantryman without a spear in hand threw javelins to further darken the sky.

Over Shirou's head, the sun disappeared for one solid moment. Upon Gilgamesh's position a bronze and iron rain fell. It wouldn't kill him. But it didn't matter. The point was made; for one moment Iskandar could summon more weapons than Gilgamesh. Shirou grinned along with his Servant when they both realized that.

But that was when the gasp of silence ended. The army of men and the armory of heroes clashed. Soldiers were destroyed by piercing bolts of golden energy, each catalogued and considered for later use by his Reality Marble. It was all that he could do to project copies of the weapons coming for Iskandar and himself, as thousands of men died screaming around him. Weapons flew in the air, and still more arrows were coming down. Iskandar bounded forward with his steed, his voice undulating in a cry of war.

Gilgamesh had to step back, as the area around him was filled with arrows. There wasn't enough room for his hands to move around the javelins. The man stepped back thirty feet, his barrage not even letting up. Iskandar, on the other hand, hadn't slowed down at all. His horse took a bad hit from some kind of thrown dagger, and its flanks were red.

Someone came up next to Shirou, a soldier wearing a silver mantle. "Take my horse! You're slowing him down!" The stallion was tall and noble. "Ride the mount of Hephaestion, and end the Age of Heroes!"

Shirou had never ridden a horse before, but inside of the reality marble it didn't matter. Everything was natural to him, as the other mounted soldiers of Iskandar's royal bodyguard made space for him. Four hoofbeats had the horse neck-to-neck with the King himself, the red mantle flying in the wind of this place.

"Come, Hero!" Iskandar laughed. "Come, Master!" There were only meters away from Gilgamesh, now. Those red eyes were wide, realizing that this time might end differently. "Come, Shirou! Nike calls us!"

The clash between the mounted column and the blonde King ended instantly. Noble Phantasms broke apart and were matched as fast as Shirou and Gilgamesh could make them. But it wasn't enough. Gilgamesh realized too late that his armory was not enough, and could never be enough.

The Master and Servant together approached the golden King. Gilgamesh tried to stop to stop them, throwing weapons and chains and ten thousand treasures to save himself, but there was no stopping their final charge. As Iskandar hefted his large blade, yelling in a raucous joy, Shirou could not help but follow suit, lifting the white falchion that Archer had unknowingly given him, screaming in turn.

They met.

The reality marble shattered and ended. Shirou slumped to the ground, his magic circuits screaming against his actions. When he opened his eyes, it was to the most curious of things. Gilgamesh was being held in Iskandar's hands, both of his arms removed below the shoulder. One had the slim cut from Shirou's blade. The other was brutally mangled, the strike that took the arm going into the ribs.

Against all odds, Gilgamesh was still alive. But Iskandar held him up so that the King of Heroes could look him in the eye. "I have never met the same foe on the field of battle twice. Not without total victory."

The golden Archer's eyes boggled, as he could only cough blood. "How?" Faint sparkles were already coming off of him, signifying the death of Gilgamesh coming.

"I remember the last time you drew that weapon upon me." Iskandar said with a cold smile. "This age will not end before I drag your body behind my chariot. Shirou, your woman is capable of dealing with the grail on her own. Tonight? I ask, no, I beg that you ride with me one last time." Iskandar's eyes were wet. "You have done all that a King could ask, and more. Before I return to the throne, I must finish this war as brothers should." Iskandar's chariot appeared, and the man extended his hand towards Shirou. "The Gods did not earn that victory, Shirou. You did."

Shirou sniffed, tears streaming from his eyes, and he took his King's hand.

"_Yes!_"

Shirou's last moments with Iskandar that night were made of the unbreakable bond of brothers. A bond that would remain into the afterlife and beyond. No matter what happened to him after this, he would never forget this experience.

* * *

**The following is a message from Aberron, who was the man who suggested and then wrote the latter half of this chapter:**

_**Now, I am not Pallan. But this was so much fun to write, and when we got together to write this amazing piece.**_

_**A few notes on the references in this chapter. Aika is the Greek word for 'If', and it was thrown back into Iskandar's face when he was 14, when he and Philip (his dad) were considering invading Laconia to conquer Sparta. A very famous moment. Toxotes and Peltast are words that mean archer and javelin thrower. **_

_**A lot of deities and other touches were added, but we just wanted to provide you with the best experience that we could consider. Gilgamesh vs Iskandar, round two.**_

**I cannot express how thankful I am to my friend for having made this a reality. There was no way I could have encapsulated the larger-than-life personalities of those two, but he managed to do so. Gods above, it shook us both to see these words put on the page.**

**Today's ending theme is **_Rule the Battlefield_ **by Yuki Kajiura, as is appropriate for the King of Conquerors.**

**Thanks for reading.**


	11. Kiara Sessyoin Interlude 1

The pews were left unfilled that Sunday. He caressed the holy book that sat on the altar, considering the pages he was to sermonize on. He was used to having a small congregation, but today he had been left alone to preach to dust. It felt somewhat reflective of the state of his own belief. Gilgamesh never attended, of course. The confession alone would possibly be heretical from him.

"_You may think it necessary to lecture upon a God you have no faith in to bleating sheep, but the King does not partake in futile exercises of divine restraint. I will return when it suits me._"

His arrogance was always amusing, though Kirei never expressed that out loud. He certainly was the most powerful of any spirit on the Throne, there was no doubt about that, but to act like the entirety of humanity was your property was... well, foolish did not fully grasp what it meant to define that idea. However, he was personally indebted to the Archer through the fact that, though they were not friends, the King had allowed him to come to a better understanding of himself during the last War. They tolerated one another's company, and he was sure that if Gilgamesh ever tired of him, he would die.

But that would not come until the end of this War. He would see to its conclusion, see that this Grail could be fulfilled and a wish could be made, only to shatter in its wisher's hands. Oh, how he longed to be able to see that moment. He wanted to be there to see their hopes and dreams become nothing. Especially if it was Kiritsugu's boy. He too would misunderstand what that foolish ideal meant, though it seems as if he took it as a personal quest more than something to force upon the world.

Hilarious. Kirei knew that people were inherently selfish creatures, that to pine after a Justice that saves everyone is to fight against human nature. That boy would find himself hated for saving those who powerful people did not want to be saved, and he would die at their hands, similar in a sense to the Maid of Orleans. Burnt as a sacrifice to the ever-hungry stomach of Alaya's machine.

_We have truly been made in the image of God._

He picked up and opened the book to its bookmark, and began to speak to his empty church. Just because he lacked an audience did not mean that he could forsake his duty.

"And this day the Lord acts through His hands, and as His hand I bring you His word." Kirei began the sermon the same way every Sunday. "We begin in First Corinthians, 13:9. For we know only in part, and we prophesy only in part; but when the complete comes, the partial will come to an end. When I was a child, I spoke like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child; when I became an adult, I put an end to childish ways."

He looked upwards from his book to the stained-glass window above his altar, faint sunlight shining through it to illuminate the image of the Virgin Mary, her abstractly-shaped arms holding a cross that was on a necklace.

"For now we see in a mirror, dimly, but then we will see face to face. Now I know only in part; then I will know fully, even as I have been fully known. And now faith, hope, and love abide, these three; and-"

"And the greatest of these is love."

He turned to the entrance, from which a female voice had spoken. It was a woman in nun's garb, though there was something sensual about the frock and the way she slowly walked down the aisle. Certainly, no nun's garb would ever allow so much of the skin of the legs to be displayed thus. Her yellow eyes were partially lidded, but they gave him an intense stare.

"Good afternoon, Father." She said politely. "Do you have a moment to speak?"

"Of course," He nodded slowly, putting the book back down on the altar. "What would a fellow woman of faith wish to talk about?"

"I suppose that I have been..." She took a seat in the frontmost pew on his left side, placing a hand on her cheek. "...reconsidering my faith in recent weeks. Certain events have shone new light on my understandings of the scriptures, and I felt the need to... air them out, to reflect upon them with someone who understood."

Her voice was breathless, as if the act of speaking robbed her of her breath. Not in a sickly manner, though. This woman was a succubus hiding as a Sister. He couldn't help but smile, though he turned the outward shape of it to be as positive as he could make it, despite its sinful underpinnings. A Game was afoot.

"I will do my utmost to secure your faith, Sister." He assured, standing in front of the bench she sat on. "Begin at the beginning."

She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, the outline of her bosom rising in turn, then exhaled and looked at him.

"Father..." She said quietly. "Why do you think the Lord has not let humanity die?"

Kirei repressed a twitch. This was a question he had not considered for many years, since he had come out of seminary and tried to come to terms with his own warped morality that could not line up with what the Catholic Church prescribed. He had questioned why God had let him remain alive while good people died in agonizing pain. It did not seem righteous, and if God was not righteous, then who was?

She played the Game well.

"The Eternal Father," he started, "is an existence that cannot be grasped easily. Some will tell you that He attempts to test us by inflicting pain and misery on the humble, and though the greedy appear to remain unmolested, they will be punished in the afterlife. Others may say that our struggles are all of our own making, and though He is unhappy with what we have come to, He believes in our ability to reform ourselves. Perhaps to some there is no hell," He took a deep breath. He certainly knew that there was one, as he had been able to feel it at the end of the last War. "And eventually He will allow us all, sinners and saints, believers and agnosts, to enter His Kingdom."

He considered how to word his answer as he began to walk towards the altar.

"I have found in my dealings with life that many will try to explain the nature of the Lord without really knowing Him themselves." He said with a small smile on his face, walking around the altar. "Men and women of the robe have to be the channel through which worshippers understand His words, and yet they do not really listen to Him themselves. People who will spout those token phrases at you make excuses for humanity, or for His perceived apathy."

"But how can one account for our continued growth without believing that He does not want to see it?" She asked, her hands resting on the wooden divider that separated the front pew from the center of the church. "Are we not a people that deals in evil?"

"Perhaps He already has punished us," Kirei replied, "and we have simply overcome what He has hurt us with."

"That can't be so." The woman shook her head. "His wrath is well-documented, even if one takes the scriptures as a metaphor rather than as literal truth. He has the power to destroy, or at least gravely cripple, the societies that humanity have built on the backs of the downtrodden."

He stopped, looking at her gaze, which certainly seemed to convey a sad confusion.

"You have given this a lot of thought, Sister." He said, walking back towards her.

"It has been a trying time." She looked down at the floor.

His footsteps echoed in the cavernous space as a silence hung over their heads.

"What truly ails you?" He redirected the subject. "What has caused the acute suffering of this ardent servant of the Lord?" Hypocrite. Every word he spoke was just a lie to further test his own existence. "It is said that God himself is moved by the tears of an innocent woman." Nothing about this woman was innocent, though she wore a nun's habit.

She placed her head on the wooden divider, and seemed to shake for a moment before calming down.

"Recently..." She spoke slowly. "I was gifted with a vision. I had never been blessed before, but the Lord felt it necessary to convey something to me, and it shook my core deeply."

He kept his response to himself. Whatever insights she allowed him to have would be useful, no use muddying them with his own beliefs.

"I saw... a golden chalice."

He refrained from stopping in his tracks and continued to unhurriedly pace around her.

"I saw seven hands appearing to reach for it, until they all reached above it and began to tear each other apart, their blood filling the chalice until it overflowed. I saw... something on the surface of that blood. Something... so monstrous that my mind refused to acknowledge it. I cannot remember what it looks like, though the rest of the vision is crystal-clear in my memory, and I can still smell the stench of the blood. But that thing... it felt like the darkness in the hearts of men. The thing reached for the surface, and a hand emerged that was made of the blood. It grabbed ahold me and..."

She stopped, her voice choked. He let her have that moment, after which she lifted her head up to look at him, her eyes brimming with unshed tears.

"I thought... if that is who we truly are, why does He let us live? If we are a species defined at our core by darkness, why do we get to thrive?"

Her acting was impeccable. Had she not held herself the way she did when she entered, he would have thought she was genuinely troubled. As it was, he was tempted to revel in seeing this beautiful women suffer, but it was that temptation that tempered his will. She was playing the Game masterfully.

It would not do to refrain from responding in kind.

"My dear Sister," He had reached her once more, leaning on the wooden divider with his hand, "is a lion evil for mauling and murdering a zebra in front of its family?"

"No, but they are animals, and we are of His image." She replied. "We are tainted with the original sin of knowledge and awareness, and so we cannot consider ourselves innocent in committing acts of violence."

"Yet, as you saw it, our nature is of that darkness." He held out a hand, clasping it into a fist over his heart. "We exited Eden as such, and from the moment that Cain killed Abel we have remained stained and unredeemed. As you said, He had the power to remove us at any time, and He did remove those who did crimes against Him. He flooded the Earth and nearly eliminated all life from it, obliterated Sodom and Gomorrah, cast plagues upon the Egyptian people."

He opened his palms close to his body, holding all of His crimes in his hands.

"If that is our Maker, and we are of His image, then can we not say that He is the one who was tainted, and all that acquiring original sin did was provide self-awareness _of_ that taint?"

Her eyebrows rose and she gasped.

"Father, that is _heretical!_" Her expression was of shock, but he could feel that she was not lost by the idea. The Game was not about doctrine, but about themselves. He had not played with someone of this caliber in a long, long time. "He sent His Son to us, someone who lacked any darkness and that embodied good itself! How can He be tainted if the Son, who is both begotten of Him and a part of Him in the Trinity, did nothing but spread miracles and kindness to His people?"

This time he couldn't hold back the smile, nor could he really twist it into something made of good. She was earnest.

"Yet, what did we do unto Him?" He said. "We mocked Him, tortured Him, murdered Him. He died not just _for_ our sins, but as an expression _of_ them. Are we, His children, truly redeemed in that act?" Kirei sucked in a breath. "And really, who is at fault for us needing so _much_ redemption? Was not Eve the mother of all sin? Just as she stole from God to make herself more like His image, the potential exists in all the children of Eve to bite the hand that feeds them."

Kirei let that barb sting for a long moment. "Upon the mountain of Athos, it is said that the tears of the Virgin Mary still carry their echoes across the ages. That her cries for repentance and forgiveness still can be heard upon the wind. For all that was said and done, God still demanded that she pray to his Son, rather than to him. Because of Eve, women are still tied to the expectation of obedience." He gave the nun a long, knowing look. "Because God knows that deep within the hearts of women is the power to overturn the natural order of the world. To reach for the image of God without the guidance of his word to guide them."

She stared back at him, and she seemed to refuse to convey any kind of offense at his language. She knew he was aware of the unsaid truths behind her honeyed words.

_Such control._

"Though Eve may have been the one to grant sin onto Adam," she said after his words had settled down, "there is equal potential in both men and women to change what is order into chaos. It was not the whispers of the milkmaid in the ear of Honorius I that made him refrain from condemning the teachings of a young upstart in the Levant, leading to the deaths of millions in conquests and wars." She gave him a small smile filled with amusement. The persona of the distraught Sister was gone, and in its place was the succubus. "Can you really say that the darkness that I saw must come from Eve? That all men are innocent until a woman latches onto them and twists them to be puppets to their will?"

"'For God hath said, what is Man without Woman to be his partner and reprimand?'" Kirei quoted. "Removing the presence of woman from man leads to monastic tendencies and the purity of thought that brought about the books of Revelation and Prophecy. Removing man from the woman creates creatures of habit and crueler nature. Such as Jezebel, who would sacrifice her own children for power and glories untold."

"Yet this land is scarred not by the sacrifices of a woman," she countered, "but by the hand of men who sought to reach for God's power. If that is what the monastic lifestyle leads to, then perhaps men are better off in the arms of women who would nurture them into a more wholesome nature."

"Is that what you have dedicated your life to, Sister?" He asked. "Have you found it in yourself to care for others in that manner? Can you still do so, despite knowing the true nature of man?"

She held his gaze. He searched for hurt, finding only playfulness.

"If someone who has dedicated herself to the will of the Lord cannot answer affirmatively to that question," her eyes sparkled, "then is she His hand at all? Can you still do so yourself? We must learn to trust in His will, after all."

She closed her eyes and turned her head upwards, holding her hands in prayer. He found himself amused that she continued to keep the guise up.

"The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want. He makes me lie down in green pastures; He leads me beside still waters; He restores my soul. He leads me in paths of righteousness for His name's sake. Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil; for You are with me; Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me."

She stood, spreading her arms out with her palms facing upward, and smiled beatifically as she opened her eyes. He might have been fooled had her expression not shifted so dramatically as she spoke once more, turning a saintly expression into the grin of seduction.

"Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord my whole life long."

The words echoed in the cavernous hall, light faintly coming through the stained-glass windows on the west side of the church.

"I hope, Father," she said, "that the darkness in your soul truly does originate from the woman that plagues your heart, and that you are not the cause of your own tainted self."

"Are you so sure that this darkness is mine at all?" He replied, raising an eyebrow. "Perhaps you are projecting your own confliction onto me. You have come here with a vision from the Lord, and all I am to do is to help you come to terms with it."

"You have done very little to assuage my fears," she said, looking at him once more, "and instead attempted to prey upon them to lock me into a cage of my own doing. How curious." A hand cupped her cheek once more. "May I ask you but another question?"

"You may," he allowed, looking at the rays that illuminated his church, "though I hope it is a much shorter one, as I must end my day soon."

"What do you think the chalice and the hands meant?" She tilted her head to the side with a curious look.

He let himself have a moment to think.

"The hands are the hands of mankind," he spoke steadily, "reaching for its dreams, only to hurt itself in the process of achieving them. The chalice..." He smiled. "...but a vessel for those dreams."

She nodded and then bowed. The front of her robe opened up slightly to allow him to see enough skin to get a nun excommunicated.

"Thank you for your time, Father." She spoke, giving him one final smile, and turned to walk away. Her stride was as slow and sensual as the one she had entered with, but Kirei was not a man tempted by those desires. The only joy she could provide him was either to be in agony under him, an image he was unlikely to see, or to continue to play the Game with him.

As the doors closed behind her, he turned once more to the stained-glass visage of the Virgin Mary. He stared at the way she clutched at the cross that hung on her necklace, the way she stared up to the heavens as if searching for absolution. He wondered if the woman he had just met ever felt a moment in her life akin to the Holy Virgin.

The idea almost made him laugh. Almost.

"The woman was clothed in purple and scarlet," he murmured as he began to clean the altar and pulpit, "and adorned with gold and jewels and pearls, holding in her hand a golden cup full of abominations and the impurities of her fornication; and on her forehead was written a name, a mystery: 'Babylon the great, mother of whores and of earth's abominations.' And I saw that the woman was drunk with the blood of the saints and the blood of the witnesses to Jesus."

* * *

**Neither the views of Kirei Kotomine nor Kiara Sessyoin are a reflection of the author's.**

**Verbal sparring is probably one of my favorite things to see in writing. Characters dancing around each other in an effort to get the best of one another without truly revealing their hands, when done right, is so exciting. I had been wanting to do this for a while, and I believe that it turned out quite well.**

**Of course, if it did, it would be because of the aid of my good friend Aberron. The man just knows what I want to say and how best to say it. This story wouldn't be half as good without him.**

**Today's ending theme is **_Destiny Teeth_ **by Vasily "mushroomer" Kashnikov.**

**Thanks for reading. **


	12. Caster of Midrash

"You're being stubborn and ridiculous."

Shirou was attempting to prepare dinner, but he was having trouble doing so as he was caught in the middle of a... heated discussion with his Servant.

"I don't see how." He replied, unknowingly making her even more frustrated. "I already told you that I like helping people."

"Master, you refused payment for six hours of work." The calm that she had kept so far was straining at the seams. "There is a limit to how far you can take a desire to do charity. That woman demanded that you take the money and you _refused her outright_."

"I mean... I didn't really do all that much." He protested.

There was no reply. Shirou believed that he had made his case enough and opened the oven, heat blasting into his face. He placed the sheet of _panko_-covered pork onto one of the metal shelves and closed the door, setting a timer for twenty minutes. He turned around to continue working on the sushi, but was instead met with the very serious gaze of his Servant. She was frowning and her arms were crossed over her regal gown, her jackal-like ears curled backwards. These were all bad signs.

"I was willing to give you the benefit of the doubt," she said, "but you are proving yourself to be a pushover. If you do not value yourself, then others will not value you. I can understand, _to a point_, why you may be content with that, but this will be to your detriment."

She poked him with an index finger, and he barely managed to stop himself from hitting the oven and falling onto the stovetop that still held the remnants of heat upon it.

"Beyond all this, you are being _foolish_. Are you a fool, Shirou Emiya?"

He took a moment to collect himself before answering her, meeting her eyes.

"Yeah, sometimes." He spoke honestly. "But this is who I am. I want to help people."

Her frown intensified.

"Then we will have to work on channeling that into better outlets." She said with a tone of finality. "I will not allow my Master to be a doormat for people who have no eyes to look beneath fake smiles."

With that, she spun, her purple hair brushing against his nose and making him want to sneeze. He wiped at his nose with his inner elbow, trying to suppress the sensation, and continued to work on the sushi. He needed to speed up, as Illya would be here soon, and she didn't like to be kept waiting for food.

Caster turned on the television, some soap opera that Fuji-nee probably cried over in her spare time popping into view. He could see out of the corner of his eye a man and a woman standing on a wooden pier, staring out into an endless sea.

"_-are you going to do?_" The woman asked, reaching a hand out to touch the man on his shoulder. He shrugged her off. His shoulders were tense through his suit, and he was hunched over, leaning on a wooden railing.

"_I don't know._" He said after a long moment. "_They need me, but I can't continue to protect them from bullshit corporate politics like this. It's... it's so damn frustrating._"

"_You can't just run away from this like last time._" She spoke with a gentle firmness.

"_I know, damn it!_" He banged his hand on the wood, then winced. Shirou pulled himself away from the sight to check on the _tonkatsu_. It was coming along well, and his timer was getting close. He went back to the sushi, finishing the last few salmon roe rolls, his eyes flicking to the television once more. Caster was leaning on the table with both arms, her attention glued to the screen.

"_Listen to me._" The woman pulled the man's face into her hands, looking up at him. "_You shouldn't have been put in this position, but we can't control the way that the dice fall. Standing still is not going to help you when a river floods. And... no matter which bank you swim to, _I will be there for you."

She wrapped her arms around him, her face turning to the side.

"_I love you, and I will support you no matter which path you take._"

The man slowly embraced her as well, and the image faded to credits. Some advertisement for another of the network's shows came on while the credits were rolling, and Shirou turned back to the last parts of his work. There really wasn't much left.

The timer went off, and he jumped to turn off the oven, pulling out the _tonkatsu_ and placing it on the counter. He began to cut them into bite-sized pieces, focusing himself on the activity while Caster's words and the soap opera's imagery brushed through his mind.

The sounds of his final preparations and the television were all the ambience of the room. He assumed Caster was still mad at him. That happened sometimes. They had gotten off to a good start when he first summoned her, but sometimes she would have moments where she would look at him pensively, and it looked like she was seeing something else when she stared at him. He really wanted to know what, because he wanted to help her, but he didn't wish to pry when their relationship was already so tenuous.

He placed the sauce in the middle of a large dish full of _tonkatsu_, hoping that Illya would arrive soon. _Tonkatsu_ was meant to be eaten immediately after it finished baking, and it would not do to let it get cool.

He heard his front door be whipped open.

"_I'm home!_" A young girl's voice called out.

"Gossip always attracts its shadow..." He muttered with a smile, before replying at the same volume. "Welcome home! Dinner's almost ready!"

A pair of footsteps approached his living room, and he readied himself for her entrance. As much as he could, at least. The hurricane that is Illyasviel von Einzbern can be planned around, but it is hard to truly prepare for her.

The footsteps stopped outside of the door, and to Shirou's surprise, she actually managed to open it calmly without attempting to throw it off its slide. She was wearing her normal purple dress which served to highlight the white locks that framed her face.

"Onii-chan!" She managed to not yell this time, and only lightly jogged over to him before jumping and grabbing onto him with a tight hug. He patted her head a couple times.

"It's nice to see you too, Illya." She gave him a bright smile, then turned to Caster, who was looking at them with a blank gaze. Her own expression flattened, and she nodded at his Servant. Shirou wanted to sigh at the continued tension in their own relationship, but refrained from doing so, instead lightly pushing Illya off of him as he began to bring the meal to the table. She took a seat across from Caster, though much closer to his side than the other woman was.

"How was work last night?" The deceptively innocent girl asked.

"It went fine." He said simply as he placed down the large bowl of rice. "Nothing really interesting happened. I just helped around like I usually do."

The animal-eared woman snorted, barely paying attention to the food being set up in front of her, instead choosing to watch as the TV presented another episode of that soap opera. Illya's eyes narrowed.

"What?" Her voice chilled.

"My Master neglected to mention to both of us that he was thrown on his head as a child." She said casually. "He worked for six hours and refused to take compensation."

_That_ made Illya spin around to glare at him.

"_Shirou._" Now the icy tone was directed at him. "You spent six hours outside, where you could have been killed _again_, and you tell me you have _nothing to show for it?_"

He winced.

"I mean..." He began. "I would have taken the money if I had done more, but it wasn't all that busy and it felt like they didn't even need me, so I didn't want to place an undue burden on Neko-san and her dad... And plus, Caster was there! I would have been fine!"

"I was considering whether or not to let you be injured," She said, examining her sharp nails idly before picking up her chopsticks, "as I am not a doting mother who babies her children. _Itadakimasu_."

Illya didn't even look at her at that comment. Her anger was extremely evident by the way that she was standing completely still, glaring holes into him.

"You're not allowed to work at the Copenhagen anymore." She stated simply, and then sat down, serving some rice for herself. "_Itadakimasu_." She murmured.

_What?_

"What?" He said as much.

"For once, we are in agreement." Caster said, nodding towards Illya, taking a piece of _tonkatsu_ with her chopsticks in one graceful motion. Of course, the elegance of that moment was ruined when she took a bite out of it and caused crumbs to fall all over herself, making her whine.

"Are you guys serious?" He tried to protest. "But I need to work!"

"Work means that you engage in tasks for the exchange of payment." Illya replied lightly, looking all too much like the princess she was as she ate. "You're apparently too stupid to even figure that out, so your working privileges have been revoked."

"But... you can't do that!"

Her eyes flew to him once more, pinning him to the wall.

"How old are you?"

"Uh..." That was a very loaded question, but he had a rough answer. "Seventeen, I think."

She raised an eyebrow, but didn't comment on that further.

"Eighteen." She easily dropped that bomb. "Little brothers listen to their older sisters. You're not allowed to work anymore."

"W-what?" He really didn't know how to digest that. "But... you look so..."

"I'm a homunculus. I was designed to look like this, and because of the way I was..." She grimaced. "..._manufactured_, I'm stuck in this body for the rest of my life."

"Whether she is eighteen or eight hundred, her point stands, Master." Caster threw in as she finished wiping crumbs off of herself. "If you had at least gone to make a profit, then I would have understood and even encouraged that behavior. Wealth is not power, but a path to it. If you want to... save others, as you say, then you need to become powerful. You can assist strangers in very small ways right now, but if you want to become a hero for many, then you need influence. To block this path before you can even start walking down it is the height of folly."

He really didn't know what to say after that. Both of them had made some good points, though he still felt that he should be going to help out. It really didn't matter if he was paid or not, he still had much of Kiritsugu's inheritance to call upon. He just felt it was important to at least try to contribute to it. He didn't expect to have much time during the Grail War to work, so he would take the opportunities where he could, but if he didn't really do anything, then there was nothing he deserved to be paid for, right?

A small piece of advice from his father came to his head after a particular incident where he had enraged Taiga over something trivial.

"_Shirou, it never matters whether you think you are right or wrong when arguing with a woman, because you will always be wrong. It's up to you to either accept that or fight it, though you will lose if you try. This does not mean that you never argue, but it does mean that you've got to learn to temper that stubborness of yours."_

_The man that had been aged beyond his years patted his son's head and mussed his hair._

"_If all you do is run face-first into walls every day, sooner or later you'll break your nose."_

He found himself ruminating over his father as he ate, the table drenched in silence apart from the television's contributions. In particular, over what that fake priest had revealed the other day about him and his participation in the Fourth Grail War. He melded that with what Illya had said about him, and his own memories. The man he knew and the man she knew seemed to be somewhat alike. Kind, soft-spoken, but always gazing at an unseen horizon. A handyman who always knew how to fix whatever broke in the house, which helped teach Shirou how to do so himself, yet completely useless in most other domestic activities. He tried to reconcile that loving husband and father with the man that Kotomine had described. A cold-blooded killer who allowed people to suffer and die in his search for that dream of Justice. Someone who didn't hesitate to sacrifice his family to achieve his goals.

He didn't know how to come to terms with that. That man's smile on his last night, when Shirou told him that he would adopt his dream... it was the smile of someone who had shattered inside and was barely able to hold the pieces together. That man had killed so many to save others. Is that where his dream would lead him, too?

_No. I can't let that happen. I told him that I would make his dream real, and I can do it without making someone suffer so someone else can be saved. I _have_ to do it._

"I married a man like you, once." Caster said abruptly after a few minutes. Both he and Illya looked at her, but she was staring at the TV as she continued to eat.

"I hope that doesn't mean what I think it means..." His older sister said slowly, her tone tightening. The Servant smiled and gazed softly at her.

"He's far too young for me." She stated quietly, then turned to Shirou. "No, I suppose I might be thinking a little too much about him when I see you. I apologize. That man, though..." Her eyes stared past him like they had done so often. "There was something very wrong with him. Even when I approached and challenged him, even after I had partnered myself to him... he never looked at people as they were. He looked at them as..."

Her eyes solidified once more and looked straight into his.

"...as one looks at the hands of beggars and allows oneself to take pity upon them."

"Onii-chan is nothing like that." Illya said harshly. "He's a good person."

Caster's smile turned even more wistful as she pointedly didn't look in the small woman's direction.

"So was my husband." She said simply, then bowed her head and picked her plates up. "_Gouchisousama deshita_."

Both of their eyes followed her as she took them to the sink, and then Illya's met his. Something heavy was in that look, and he tilted his head, confused. She shook her head in response.

"We're still planning to go out tonight, yes?" Caster said after a long silence in which they could only hear the TV and her washing her dishes.

"Yes." Illya responded. "Berserker is waiting outside."

Shirou took in a deep breath. That giant still scared him, even though he had never hurt him.

"If you like... I still have some leftovers from making tonight's dinner." He said slowly. "Do you think he would enjoy it?"

His sister smiled at him.

"You're far too kind for your own good, onii-chan." She reached up to squeeze his cheek hard enough to hurt. "It makes you very cute, though, so don't change. If you can set up a plate for him, though in a way that doesn't require utensils, I'm sure he'd be happy."

He winced and rubbed his probably-bruised cheek, but went to set up a small meal for the giant. Nothing too complex; Berserker wasn't an idiot, but he simply didn't have any large chopsticks or forks or spoons on hand. He decided to make some large onigiri with the _tonkatsu_ and add some sushi rolls to the side.

With the plate assembled, he made his way out to his front door and met Illya outside, who was kicking at some snow on the ground.

"Oh, that was fast." She said as she spotted him. "Berserker?"

Unlike the first time he had met him, Shirou did not feel his spine begin to fold into itself as the large Servant faded into view. Berserker exhaled out of his nose, and a large cloud of frost came out. Illya nodded to the side, indicating towards Shirou. He held out the plate to the large giant.

"Here. I thought you would want some before we go." He was very impressed with himself for not shaking at all while talking to the beastly man.

With a grip much gentler than one would expect for someone of his size, Berserker took the plate and picked up one of the onigiri, taking a bit out of it.

"Mmm."

The small smile that appeared on his face was all that was needed to leave Shirou satisfied.

* * *

**When you look at this Caster's dialogue lines... well, when I did, I found it to be uncomfortably similar to Jewish stereotypes. The entirety of her character is, apart from the typical Master-obsession that comes with pretty much every female Servant, "I love to manage and make money, and profit is the goal of life!" I really didn't like that, but I suppose to be fair, a lot of these Servants don't seem to get nearly as much thought as they deserve. I will see what else I can do with her, though I'm sure you got some hints of what that is here.**

**Today's ending theme is **על הגשר הישן_ (Al Hagesher Hayashan)_ **by Rami Kleinstein. If you are searching on YouTube, you will want to find the duet version he does with the wonderful woman Miri Massikah.**

**Once again, my biggest thanks to Aberron, who after acquiring food sickness eventually managed to make his way through this chapter, though the ending may seem rougher as I slapped that in after he went to bed.**

**Thanks for reading.**


	13. Tamamo-no-Mae 3

Shirou inhaled, moved his leg backwards, swept the shinai down into a block, stabilized his position, and exhaled. Katas had to be done slowly so they could be embedded into the body. It was something he had picked up from watching a tai chi class at a park one day, practicing the moves he saw in the shade of a tree. He didn't keep trying to learn the moves themselves after that day, but the philosophy that the instructor had uttered had stuck with him since.

_Your body is naturally powerful, all you must do is focus it._

It was somewhat strange to see a man who looked to be in his mid-40s saying things like that to a group of people old enough to be Shirou's grandparents, but the thought is what counted. Yes, it was important to train your muscles, and Shirou kept a strict regimen, but the idea was to find how your body naturally moved — and then become comfortable with moving it as such. It was about slowly drilling the muscle memory in until, when the time came to use it, it did not have to be thought about. It was about breathing in time with your stances. It was about finding peace in violence, parting the river of life with the solidity of your soul.

As he slowly found the farthest comfortable length of his hip joint while stepping forward into a lunge, he breathed at a steady pace. He held himself in that position for a few seconds, his shinai staying behind his right side in preparation for an overhand swing. He let himself fall on his left side, knowing that a position like that is vulnerable to exploitation, and twisted around while on the ground to allow himself to spin back up into a standing block.

He then proceeded to get smacked in the face by a fast-moving projectile, which caused him to yelp and fall onto his right side. It was not nearly as graceful as the last fall he had. As he bent to try to get back up, he was once again smacked in the face, though at least this time he was able to get a small glimpse of his attacker.

_Are those... fox pups?_

"Think fast!"

Sadly, Shirou was not nearly as quick-witted as the speaker intended for him to be. Another kit hit him on his thigh hard enough to bruise. When it landed it squeaked in a way that sounded like laughter, and then one leapt off of the ground behind him only to kick at his nose with its tiny legs. That impact translated to him actually stumbling, the force behind it being surprisingly strong.

"C'mon, Master! You're supposed to hit them!" Tamamo said from her perched position on the bench of his dojo. She had somehow snuck in during his katas and sat herself down without making a sound. "It's like Star Wars! _Star Wars!_"

"What the hell is Star Wars?" He responded as he tried to bat away another incoming fox kit, failing to do so and allowing it to give him a solid kick into his abdomen. "Oof!"

"_WHAT?!_" His Servant shrieked. "How do you not know about _Star Wars?!_"

"The real question is how do _you_ know about... Star Wars?" He dodged another attack with a step to the side.

"The Grail told me," she said casually, as if that four-word statement explained everything, "but there is a much more serious crime here! You can't have lived this long without seeing Star Wars!"

"Why is this so important to you?!" This time he actually managed to block one of the little rascals, but his victory was short-lived as two of them whacked into his back and sent him forward. He was just barely able to recover instead of falling on his face.

"You can't be a good Master without knowing things!" She replied simply. "And Star Wars is just one of those things you have to know about!"

Shirou opened his mouth to respond, but at that instant a cub had jumped up and batted his mouth shut, which hurt _a lot_.

"And if you think you can fight in this War without beating these tiny little monsters, then you really are an idiot." She crossed her arms and gave him a look that he could barely see, as the assault had become relentless and non-stop.

He was getting better, as he was able to block a few more than before, but the fox pups eventually got the best of him, knocking him to the ground. He landed with a thump and a grunt, and all seven of them (when did there get to be that many?) pounced on him, licking at his face and neck. Their tongues were rough, similar to that cat he had taken care of that one time, and they scraped at him in a ticklish manner.

"So this is how the great Shirou Emiya dies." Tamamo crouched down next to him, grinning smugly. "Not in a blaze of glory, but whimpering as he is licked into a puddle."

Shirou could have said a lot of things in that moment. He considered protesting at being called great, or telling her that this is not a valid way of dying in any sense, or that he never wanted to die in glory. Instead, he stuck his foot in his mouth and said the following sentence:

"I haven't... been killed nearly enough... to die now..."

Luckily, she only looked at him as if he was stupid for a second, before giggling lightly and lying down on the floor next to him, staring at the ceiling.

"...You are such a strange man, Shirou Emiya." She mumbled, facing away from him. He chose not to respond to that.

They laid there for a few more moments, both huffing from exertion. Eventually he lifted himself upright, the fox cubs falling off of him as he did so. They squeaked as they landed, but then jumped back onto him, climbing onto his shoulders and on his head, making tiny noises as they tried to find comfortable positions on him and batted at each other for good spots.

Tamamo got up soon after and noticed his predicament.

"You know, I was going to unsummon them," She said with a smirk, "but you look like you're having a good time. Keep them for as long as you like."

He gave her a deadpan stare, but ultimately decided that despite the antagonistic beginning of their relationship, he was okay with letting them rest. They... were admittedly very adorable. He was not very used to caring for pets, apart from that one cat, but they were growing on him.

He made to shrug, but that jolted a few of them from their snoozing, which they complained at him for. He refrained from trying to do so again.

"Anyway, get cleaned up and get dressed." She ordered, wrinkling her nose as she stood up. "We're going to the library."

"What? Why?"

She rolled her eyes as she turned to the door. "Because we're going to have a stay-at-home movie date tonight. You aren't allowed to live any longer without having seen Star Wars."

"Err..."

"Are you going to tell me you don't want to?" She said as she reached the door, turning to look at him.

"But... shouldn't we be out looking for Servants?" He protested.

"Why?" She looked amused. "We have the advantage of my territory here. Let the flies be wrapped in our spiderweb." Her smile sharpened. "They will tear themselves to pieces just trying to escape."

"But we're not going to kill them." he said firmly, though the resolve he was trying to convey was weakened by the pile of foxes clambering all over him.

"Of course not, Master." She assured. "No one will ever have to die. There are much worse things than death, after all."

_Morbid, but..._

He stopped that train of thought from getting ahead of him before it went somewhere bad.

He followed her out of the dojo, feeling the warm afternoon sun hit his sweaty body. One would think that tai-chi, a martial art that focused on very slow, deliberate movements would mean that you would not be exerting yourself enough to sweat. That would be somewhat correct, but Shirou did not practice formal tai-chi, and blended the focused gentleness of that art with large motions such as rolling and dodging that required more speed. Ergo, his skin was sticky, and he really did want to wash himself up quickly before they went out.

The kits jumped off of him, yipping as they ran around his back yard. He watched them go with a smile, not noticing his Servant's own stare towards him.

It was not a long process. Shirou was, of course, preferential to a long soak in the bath, but it was clear that his Servant was in a rush, and he was pressed to be fast. He emerged from his room, clean and dressed in his normal black-and-white jersey over his blue-and-white long-sleeved shirt alongside olive-green khakis. He carried a small messenger bag, thinking as they were going to go all the way to the library, he might as well stop and pick up some ingredients along the way.

He met her at the entrance, and her nose twitched as she turned to look at him.

"Lavender?" She questioned, to which he shrugged in reply.

"Fuji-nee sometimes stays the night and doesn't really take her toiletries when she leaves."

She gave him an indecipherable look (maybe he should pick up another socialization guide while at the library), but opened the door to leave, hiding her ears and tail as she did so.

Their pace was steady. Shirou only had a few centimeters on Tamamo, so there was no issue of one person's stride outmatching the other. A comfortable silence hung between them. As they reached more populous areas, passerbys would occasionally give the two of them stares. Shirou at first thought that he had done something wrong in dressing himself, but eventually he came to the realization that Tamamo was carrying herself in the image of a perfect _yamato nadeshiko_. She intertwined her hands with each other, connecting her sleeves so that neither would show, and walked with her head pointed slightly downwards, her gaze never coming up more than 45 degrees from the ground. This was all, of course, on top of her otherworldly beauty.

He scratched at his temple awkwardly.

"Um..." He said after a while. "You don't have to walk like that."

"But I want to." She replied. "You are deserving of the utmost respect, Danna-sama."

Was she playing with him? She had a small smile on her face, but he couldn't interpret whether it was genuine or mocking or anything else.

_Yeah, I'm going to get another one of those books._

It was hard to get used to the stares, but he tried not to let it get to him. Perhaps it would have been smarter to have her go in spirit form, but she seemed to enjoy being alongside him. He didn't want to take that away from her. He could deal with the attention. This was one of the few chances this spirit from another time got to manifest once more in the physical world; it would be unkind of him, to say the least, to steal that away from her.

In due time they had arrived at the library, a large five-story cylinder inset by a four-story box behind it. It was sparsely decorated, but in such a way that made it feel polite rather than unaesthetic. They walked through the front doors quietly, and being a library found the general ambience matching that. Below, in the basement, there was the children's floor, and were they to have gone downstairs they would have found it bustling with activity. But the rest of the library was mostly soundproofed from them, and so there was not much to disturb their small search. Shirou quickly found the VHS section near the entrance, as he hadn't attempted to catch up with the newfangled DVD technology that was becoming more popular these days, and Tamamo pulled out a tape that had the large logo "STAR WARS" imprinted on it.

"This must be it." She stated the obvious, though it seemed to be more to reassure herself than to tell him.

"Alright, I just want to grab one little thing and then we can go." He said, moving to the nonfiction section. She followed close behind, curiously watching him. He made his way to the psychology section, an area he had frequented in the past and looked over the titles to see if something caught his eye. It did not take long for that to happen.

"_Emotional Intelligence_..." He muttered under his breath, pulling the book out. It seemed like it would be helpful. It had definitely seen better days, the spine being covered in tape to keep it from falling apart, but it was clearly well-used. He decided to try it out.

"Emiya?"

He turned to his right side and found an unexpected companion beside him.

"Issei?" He replied. "What are you doing here?"

"Uh, well..." He looked around evasively, apparently trying to dodge the question. "T-That's not really important. I have... stuff to do."

_That's not suspicious at all_.

His friend spotted the pink-haired woman in a blue kimono that had silently kept to Shirou's side.

"Emiya, who is that?"

Shirou froze, once again stuck in the position of trying to figure out how to explain-

She bowed, then grabbed ahold of Shirou's right arm and pressed herself close to him. "Good afternoon. I am Tamamo, fiancé of Shirou Emiya. We are to be wed before the summer begins. It is a pleasure to meet a friend of my soon-to-be-husband."

_I hate this lie so much_.

A silence fell between them as Issei tried to comprehend what he had just heard. Their friendship was not as close as the relationship he used to have with Shinji, but they were close enough for Shirou to have been expected to tell him about this. Issei turned to stare very closely at him.

"I only learned of this very recently," Shirou assured him. "I didn't have time-"

Issei stopped him with a look filled with pity. He shook his head.

"You truly have the worst luck, Emiya." He said, taking a book from the wall and walking away.

"W-wait!" He tried to call quietly, but the monk-in-training did not look back. He was whispering something under his breath, though by now he was a bit too far for Shirou to pick up on it.

"Huh." Tamamo said, still clutching onto his arm. "He was praying..."

_Oh_.

Issei never seemed to get along with Tohsaka, but he didn't realize that dislike extended to other women as well. Well, as a monk, he probably found the way that they triggered his hormones uncomfortable, or something like that.

The arms pulled on him.

"Come on, let's go!" She encouraged, leading him to the checkout desk. "We've gotta stop and get some popcorn!"

"We can't just have popcorn for dinner, though!" He replied quietly.

"I know, it's just a snack to munch on before I make dinner." She smiled at him and patted his chest twice. "Don't worry about it too much."

"But I want to h-"

"Don't even say it, Danna-sama~."

He didn't get much of a chance to say anything else. Both the movie and the book were checked out to his account, the former due in a week, the latter in two. She did not let go of his arm until they walked out, and even then she took his hand as loot instead, though he asked her to switch to his left rather than impede his primary hand. She readily did so, her smile growing ever brighter.

They stopped at the market to buy some popcorn and general groceries, though in that case he did not relinquish his duty to do so himself. He allowed her to help him, but groceries were very serious business for Shirou. He had learnt over the course of many years how to compare the prices of goods and test their quality in an unsterile environment with only his eyes, nose, ears, and fingers.

However, even though he was allowed to keep that responsibility, she rushed him along. Shirou normally took his time with these shopping trips, but his Servant was in a hurry to get going with the movie and pushed him to move faster, so he didn't get to buy everything he wanted. That probably wasn't an issue, as he could just go shopping later in the week. They weren't in desperate need of supplies or anything like that.

It ended up that she had a hold of the movie and his book while he was carrying all of the grocery bags, in addition to his messenger bag, which had been filled to the brim. She had, grudgingly, let go of his hand so as to not inconvenience him on the walk home.

"Can I ask you something?" He said.

"Always, Danna-sama. I am as open as a farmer's field during the winter to you."

"First of all, do you have to call me that even when it's just us two?"

She smirked playfully at him.

"Is it not the duty of a wife to treat her husband with respect?"

_Again, we're not even married._

"Second, did the Grail actually teach you about Star Wars?"

Here, her expression turned sheepish, and she laughed awkwardly, scratching her cheek with one finger.

"That was just a joke, actually." She looked off to the side. "I heard about it while watching an early morning talk show on the TV the other day, and they showed a scene from it that was like what I was doing earlier. So... I thought it would just be nice to sit down and watch something together."

"I still feel like we should be doing other things," he said. "Aren't we just wasting our time, when we could be going out and looking for other Servants? They could be hurting other people."

She stared at him as if he was an idiot. Which he wasn't. Really.

"Like I said before," and out came the primary school lecturing tone, "we are stronger when we remain at your home. If we go out patrolling, then I will not be able to fight as well as I can there, and it is possible that you could die. It is more than likely you would die, in fact, and you would never be able to save another person again."

She tapped him on the chest with her knuckle.

"I've realized by now that, like most men, you are driven by impulse. One of your primary impulses is this little voice in your head that says 'You have to help others. You have to save others.' That's all fine and good, but it's a voice that is only looking in the now, and not up ahead. You, my husband, have a lot of potential to do good, and it would be my utmost pleasure and honor to support you on that path."

She smiled, and wrapped her right hand around his left.

"I just have to make sure you don't run off and get yourself killed because of that little voice. You have to survive so that you can save a lot more people. It's not a matter of choosing one person over another in the moment, it's choosing potentially helping one or a few people now over definitely helping many people later."

"I... I get it." He said in a resigned fashion. She was right. He needed to focus on the good he could do later. He could help so many people.

Her hand rubbed his.

"I'm glad." She really did sound like it. They didn't say much more until they got home, the sun hitting the horizon as they arrived, whereupon Shirou unloaded all of the baggage he had been carrying and began to put away the groceries. Tamamo stretched and moaned contentedly as she let out her animalistic features.

"Mmm, I hate holding those in for so long!" She said as her arms reached up towards the ceiling. She sighed as she placed the items from the library on the table.

"Oh, you're back?" Tohsaka walked into the living room. "Where did you-"

"You." Tamamo addressed her, snapping her fingers and pointing at the twin-tailed tsundere. "Out."

"W-what?" The offense that Tohsaka clearly felt made no impression upon the fox-eared Caster.

"We're having a date tonight, right here and right now, and I don't want you or that rude Archer anywhere near us unless a Servant is attacking."

"Excuse me-"

"You're excused." She pointed through the wall, towards the bedroom that Tohsaka was staying in, then gave her a sickly sweet smile. "Thank you."

Tohsaka turned to him, shock and outrage painted all over her. He scratched at the back of his head uncomfortably.

"Uh... it's only for tonight?"

She was clearly not happy with his response, growling and slamming the door shut behind her as she stomped back to her room. Tamamo sighed.

"Really, the nerve of that girl." She shook her head. "She certainly doesn't own this house, and she was the one who imposed on you. The least she could do is respect the owner's needs."

_But I'm the owner... and you decided to do this without my input..._

Of course, Shirou decided not to voice those thoughts out loud. He had learned better than that by now. Instead, he checked the instructions on the popcorn bag, not being used to making such simple foods.

_I just put this in the microwave and cook it, and it's ready?_

He had primarily used that machine for quick heating. It never occurred to him to do anything else with it. He followed the instructions and soon the microwave was humming away. He turned to see Tamamo looking around, thinking to herself.

"What are you looking for?" He asked.

"Seating, but I'm not really seeing anything."

Being a traditional Japanese household, there wasn't much of that to go around. Shirou shrugged helplessly at her. She scrunched her nose at him and reached into her kimono, pulling out four paper talismans.

"You're lucky that I'm this good at what I do." She commented as she placed them in a rectangular pattern on the floor. She then placed herself on the longer side of the rectangle and stomped her foot.

"Ei!"

A small bang was made as a white plush couch appeared and dropped onto the floor, facing the TV. Shirou's eyes widened at the piece of furniture. It was very rare to find one of those in homes like his, and it stood out tremendously on the tatami mat. Speaking of which...

"Uh, that's not going to damage the tatami, is it?"

She shook her head. "It's got pads on the bottom. I wouldn't do that to you."

She walked back over to the table and picked up the cassette box, looking at the description and pictures on the back.

"Wow..." She murmured. "It looks very... future-y." Her tail slowly swept from side to side as she took the box to the TV. Crouching down in front of the VCR player, she bit her lip as she figured out how to use it. She looked at the tape, looked at the way that the words were printed upon it, and managed to insert it right-side up and in. She made a little fist-pumping motion.

The popcorn continued to pop away in the microwave as an uncomfortable silence settled on the two of them. Well, uncomfortable for Shirou. He wasn't sure how she felt about it, or what she was thinking. One moment she'd been pressing herself against him, demanding his attention, and the next she would be pensive. He had a lot of trouble understanding people.

_Really glad I got that book._

The microwave beeped, and he retrieved the hot bag from inside, pulling a large bowl out from a cupboard. Shirou opened the bag and got a faceful of hot air, causing him to cough and turn away. It smelled... processed, but okay. It wasn't meant to be genuine food, he reminded himself of this. Plus, it's not like it was going to be genuinely bad. He just wasn't used to eating things that were likely produced in a factory. He had been cooking for himself for so long that-

"Danna-sama~." Tamamo interrupted his thoughts, appearing behind him and tapping him on both of his shoulders. "Are you just going to stand there looking into the popcorn bag for the Root, or are we going to sit down?"

"Ah, sorry."

He finally poured it out and took it over to the couch, which was now joined by a couple footrests and a small coffee table.

"Is... is this mine now?" He asked.

"Not quite." She said with a little smile. "These are basically Projected constructs reinforced with... a special something." She wiggled her fingers. "They will last for a little while, but not long enough to become permanent fixtures of this house."

Shirou would have been disappointed if it wasn't true that he didn't really have anywhere to put them in the long-term. He placed the bowl on the coffee table and crouched down in front of the VCR player, turning it on and pressing the play button. Tamamo turned off the lights in quick succession, and soon they were only illuminated by the TV, though as it began with a dark screen, there weren't many lumens going around. She jumped onto the couch and quickly pushed herself next to him. He tried scooting away, but every time he moved, she moved along with him. They eventually got to the end of the couch and ended up in a position where she was laying on his chest, her ears flicking and tickling at his chin, her tail wrapped around his back.

"Are you... comfortable?" He asked awkwardly. She _purred_.

"Very."

"G-good." Because he sure wasn't. Hopefully he'd forget it with the movie.

A loud blast of horns signaled the beginning, startling the both of them, and the title screen rolled down. Shirou had to try to follow the subtitles on the bottom of the screen, though they were flashing from line to line very quickly. It didn't make for a particularly good experience. After that, though, the movie started in earnest.

Shirou was caught up in the story very quickly, as the cinematography and costume design made it very clear who were the heroes and who were the villains. He barely had to read the subtitles, though he still did so that he could genuinely follow the plot. As the setting change to follow a young blonde man, Shirou quickly stopped noticing how Tamamo was quietly gorging herself on the popcorn and nuzzling into him.

He did notice when a bunch of little furry critters made themselves known to them both, though. The fox kits jumped onto him and dug themselves into the crook of his shoulder and neck, and settled down fast. He squirmed at the fur rubbing against him, but tried his best to keep paying attention. The imagery of the dual sunset was beautiful. He wasn't exactly one for art, but this movie was... gorgeous.

It was horrifyingly familiar to him when the main character lost his family. Shirou tried not to feel anything as the burnt corpses of the aunt and uncle were shown. He tried not to remember anything remotely close to a two story house that was being torched to the point of collapse. He tried not to smell the ashes of wood and bone. It took a moment, and a deep breath, but he succeeded. His Servant made no note of it, though her tail did tighten around him.

From there, the story scurried onwards. The sights and sounds of the environment were fascinating, but there wasn't much time to take in it all. The young man and his mentor were then in a bar, then the rogue shot an alien, and then they were off into space.

It was...

"It's wondrous." Tamamo said, awe filling her voice. Despite the combat that was the focus of the scene, she was captured by the setting itself. "When I was young, and I looked up at the night sky, I could never have imagined how much was really out there. It just looked like a blanket that was wrapped around my world, protecting me from what lay on the outside."

Shirou wanted to respond, but they were captured once again as the stars turned from dots into lines, and the spaceship sped away from its pursuers. Soon they came to a scene that made her tap his arm rapidly.

"This is it! This is that scene!" She said excitedly. The main character wore a blinding helmet and wielded a laser sword as a small floating sphere shot lasers for him to deflect. Shirou could somewhat see the similarities.

"But the lasers aren't jumping back at him after he deflects them..." He muttered.

"The lasers aren't nearly as cute as these little fluffballs, though." She replied with a smile. One of the kits yawned in agreement, and he couldn't really argue with that.

His heart was gripped by a hand of ice when the villains destroyed a planet. So many people that had no chance to be saved...

"_I felt a great disturbance in the Force. As if millions of voices suddenly cried out in terror... and were suddenly silenced._"

He couldn't suppress a shiver at that remark after reading it. That was the nightmare he wished to avoid seeing. Flames licked at the edges of his vision, and he closed his eyes, trying to will them away.

"You okay?" She whispered, her fingers interlacing with his own. Her nails ran down the back of his hands softly.

"Yeah... yeah, I'm okay." He said, almost breathless. She didn't reply, only pressing herself against him even more. This time, he didn't resist.

The heroes wandered onwards, reaching their destination only to be captured by the villains. Their quick wits and luck mostly saved them along the way, though upon reaching the damsel-in-distress, she ended up providing most of the muscle to help save herself. Tamamo hummed appreciatively at that.

It was a sad moment when the mentor died. Shirou's heart went out for the main character, whose loss seemed to be constantly compounded whenever he found himself about to succeed. The end came soon afterwards, with the long trench battle in the spaceships culminating in the superweapon getting the same treatment it gave to that planet. He was not a very vengeful man... but that did put a smile on his face. Which was then summarily dropped.

_Could... Darth Vader... be saved too?_

It was a silly question. He wondered what his dad would say.

"We should watch the next one some time." Tamamo said, stretching as the credits began to roll. "That was really good!" She seemed happy, turning her head to smile up at him.

"Yeah. I liked that a lot." He agreed, then yawned.

_That's weird... I didn't feel tired at all just earlier._

He reached out to grab some popcorn, having snacked on none as he was so enraptured by the film, but found the bowl left with only a few kernels. He turned to his Servant, who grinned sheepishly.

"What happened to not filling up before dinner?" He asked, deadpan.

"I just couldn't help myself! You know how it is." She got up off of the couch and took the bowl to the sink. Shirou cracked his back as he got up. He wasn't expecting to have been in the same position the whole time, and his whole body was sore from it.

"Alright, dinner time..." He mumbled and joined her in the kitchen. "What time is it?"

"A little too late to have a heavy meal, I think." She said as she washed the bowl. "Why don't you sit down and I'll whip up something small for you?"

"But-"

She turned and, yeah, he was done for. That's not the kind of face that men are allowed to resist caving to. He seated himself at the table politely, then considered the fact that he had been usurped as the primary caretaker of his own household by a woman he had only known for scarcely a week.

_So this is what my life has come to. Being served hand and foot by a woman with a fox's ears and tail who proclaims herself to be my wife. _

He didn't want to get used to this, but... every day that was proving more and more difficult.

* * *

**Fluffy-tailed Tamamo strikes again. I will figure out how to do fluff with another character soon, I promise. She's just so... cathartic. I'm sure you grasp what I mean. The fox kits wrote themselves, and then as soon as I made the connection to Star Wars, I knew what I had to do. **

**A brilliant thank you to my friend Aberron once more. No story this time, just my gratitude.**

**Today's ending theme is, and you really shouldn't be surprised, **_Binary Sunset_ **by John Williams.**

**Thanks for reading.**


	14. Artoria Pendragon (Santa Alter)

"Shirou." She addressed him from the doorway. "We have to go."

He had just been rushed through the process of quickly dressing up for going outside by his Servant (she had literally been shoving clothes over him against his protests), and now she was tapping her foot impatiently as he tried to get shoes on quickly.

"Wait, please!" He said as his heel caught on the shoe, and he had to struggle with it to get his foot in. "Where are we going?"

There had been absolutely no explanation for her hurriedness. He had just arrived from school today a little late, and had come home ready to deal with his Servant's demands for food and complaints on his lateness. Instead, she had said that didn't give a damn about his cooking at that moment, which was such a world-shattering statement that he had to ask her to repeat it. She gave him a stare instead, and told him to be ready to be out late tonight, refusing to take any questions as to what was going on.

"Tonight, I must fulfill a duty that Alaya had asked of me since I answered your summons—no, since time eternal." Her tone was grave. This was clearly something very serious. He hastily finished getting his shoes on and wrapped a scarf around his face.

"Okay, but what is it?" He pressed.

She opened the door and stepped outside, and that's when he spotted it.

The motorcycle was painted red, with a few green stripes at the front and back ends breaking up the solidity of the color. It was sleek and had very few interruptions in the smoothness of the chassis. A single bright headlight burnt forward as it leaned on its stand. Behind it was attached a wide carriage, open to the air, that held a sack that was full of items that he couldn't see.

"Tonight is Christmas, Shirou Emiya." She said, and all the gravity of the situation just... blew away. "We must deliver presents to the good boys and girls of Fuyuki."

"First of all, it's February." He refused to get caught up in this pace. He had dealt with enough strangeness over the past week that he had a little tolerance for unexpected turns, but this was a few orders of magnitude above what he was expecting of the unexpected. "Second, what?"

She turned and grabbed the collar of his jacket, pull his face down to hers, her yellow eyes stopping anything else he could have said.

"The time of year is meaningless." She stated. "The religion or spirituality of the occupants of this city is unimportant. The only thing that matters is that cheer must be spread. Shirou, this city is dreadfully empty of cheer, and it is our duty to fix this. You wish to save people, don't—"

"No, no!" He shook his head. "Not like this! This isn't saving people! You're just going to break into people's homes and throw gifts at them!"

He had only known her for a week, but she was definitely the type of person to do that. What happened to Berserker... no, that was not something he wanted to remember.

"You will never become a hero with that kind of attitude, Shirou." She said, her eyes not leaving his. "We must do this, or this city will become rife with people who deserve to have coal stuffed down their throats—I mean, their stockings." She coughed, refusing to acknowledge her mistake.

"That isn't—"

"Your protests are weak," she interrupted, "and I care not for your excuses. You are coming, whether it is on my steed or dragged behind my sleigh."

There was not much he could do about that. Finally, he nodded, and she released him. He untensed his muscles and stood up again with a sigh, brushing away some snow that had been falling on him. She walked over to the bike and lightly stroked the handlebars.

"Llamrei III..." She whispered. "Please guide us on this most auspicious of nights. Fly quick and true."

Evidently, she was extremely attached to this motorcycle. Well, being summoned into the Rider class, he was told to expect that she had some kind of steed, but this was...

"Shirou, come!" Artoria Pendragon, former King of Britain, decked out in a Santa Claus outfit colored in black, held her hand out to him. "Tonight, _we ride!_"

In another reality, perhaps someone else saying that to him would have inspired him to the point of tears, and left him believing in a dream that led across the seas and beyond the stars. But Shirou was not in that reality, he was in this one. He was, suffice to say, somewhat unhappy with the state of it.

Left without much choice, he took her hand, and she promptly threw him behind her to land on the seat. It impacted directly into his crotch and he bent over onto her, barely able to hold back a groan.

"Hold on tight!" She said, ignoring his obvious agony. "The starting point for my route lies a few kilometers away, and the moonlight is wasted on idle folk."

Shirou was just barely able to wrap an arm around her lower torso before she twisted the accelerator, and the bike's engine screamed as it lunged forward down the street. There was absolutely no way the residents of Fuyuki would get a good night's sleep tonight. For once, though, the idea of other people being inconvenienced wasn't the primary thing on his mind. The vibrations of the motorcycle did not help the fact that he was hurting _a lot_, and he had to fight to keep down the bile in his stomach.

As they reached a t-junction, she leaned to the right, and the bike leaned along with her. He was barely able to keep a grip on her as his knee came extremely close to scraping the ground. She braked, and the bike's back wheel crept up to meet the front as they drifted sideways. Just before making it to the actual intersection, she gunned the accelerator once more, and the motorcycle roared once more as it sped down this new street.

His groin refused to stop complaining the whole way to his school, though they did not quite stop there. She drove past the school into the forest nearby, somehow managing to nimbly weave the motorcycle through the trees, not to mention the wide sleigh that trailed behind them, its seeming lack of presence a physical impossibility. Her speed did not come down until they emerged into a relatively open field that sat at the top of the hill which overlooked a good portion of Fuyuki. It was around here that she stopped, the engine puttering as she put her leg down to prevent the bike from falling over.

"Shirou, the time." She demanded. Before he could tell her that he didn't have a watch or any other kind of timekeeping device on hand, she shook her head. "Never mind, it doesn't matter. We will complete our task before the sun rises or die trying."

"Why do we have to die?!" He objected. "We can just finish it tomorrow night!"

"You foolish, naïve boy." He could almost hear the smirk, and once she turned to look at him he was able to see it. "Christmas has an Eve and a Day. There are no retries, no extensions. Santa must finish before the children awaken, and not a single one should be left crying because Santa was too slow to get to them."

She turned forward once more. "I will not allow it."

"But why do we have to die?!" He repeated. She ignored him again, choosing instead to pull out of her dress her seething black sword. It glowed with red runes, though occasionally they would flash green.

"Here is what you must do." She said, tapping his shoulder with it. "It is very simple: just take the present boxes out of the sack and throw them forward. I will take care of the rest."

"_Throw_ them?"

"I will not repeat myself. Your hearing is adequate enough for basic speech."

He didn't have any more words to give her. He asked his brain for some, and his brain replied: "I'm done with this crap. You're on your own, buddy."

She looked up at the full moon as if it was giving her some kind of sign. After a few moments, she nodded, and then revved the engine.

"_Let's go!_" She yelled, and they were off.

If Shirou thought they had been going fast before, he hadn't known what speed really felt like. His eyes watered in the face of the wind and he pushed his face into her back, only to receive her slamming her shoulder into the side of his head.

"Keep aware, Shirou!" She called back to him over the wind. "There may still be enemies afoot, and I need your vision ready to spot them! _Start throwing!_"

He reached back and dug a box out, green in color and wrapped with a metallic orange bow. He hesitated, then threw it beyond the front of the bike. Instead of it quickly meeting air resistance and just coming back to slap him in the face like a demented boomerang, which is what he expected, it managed to stay in the air long enough for Rider to use her sword like a baseball bat, punting it to the side. The box smashed through the window of a suburban two-story home, the sound of glass shattering making him wince.

"Merry Christmas!" His Servant shouted as they quickly passed the house. "Slav—er, Shirou! Another one!"

"_Are you kidding me?!_"

"I never jest when it comes to Christmas! _Another one!_"

He was very tempted to just jump off the bike. He really, really didn't want to participate in whatever the hell she was doing. This was actually worse than what he had expected her to do. But... by now, if he threw himself off, he would either die or cripple himself. If the police were involved, maybe he would be accused—

An elbow dug into his ribs, causing him to cough.

"Pay attention, squire!" She had thrown all pretentions away and was now very upfront about how she viewed him. Somehow, this actually made him feel a little better. At least they were now equally open with each other. He stopped his wandering thought locomotive before it got away from him again and reached back to grab another present.

"I'm sorry, little one..." He whispered to the innocent box. He could almost hear it crying quietly. It too was launched in front of the bike, and it too met the blunt side of Rider's blade. Its silent wails were something he felt in his bones as it too invaded the sanctity of another person's home, breaking through a door and tripping an alarm.

"Merry Christmas!" Rider yelled. He doubted anyone except him could hear her. Now without being prompted, he took another box and sacrificed it to the altar of Christmas cheer. He numbed himself as this continued, and further continued as she drifted through the streets like an expert street racer, never mind the sleigh they dragged along with them.

The night grew colder, but Shirou could not feel it, as he was sweating intensely from constantly throwing presents and gripping onto his Servant and trying not to fall off when she attempted to tear his skin off on the asphalt. No matter how many gifts he threw, the bag never seemed to shrink in size. Was this the magic of Christmas?

They finally exited the many residential areas of Mihama Town, having broken what must have been hundreds of windows and doors along the way. Rider did not look back once, only occasionally telling him to hasten, because his throwing was growing slow or he didn't recover fast enough from a drift. The suburban homes turned to urban multi-storied apartments, which then turned into large skyscrapers. For the apartments, she made him chuck five or more presents forward, each of which she would be able to fling through every window of the building.

"Hahahahah!" Her laughter was not evil, but it wasn't all that innocent either. "Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!"

"Is this really what you would call a good night?!" He shouted through the wind, and somehow he had become so numb that he looped back around to being emotionally sensitive, as her joy had begun to infect him.

"_Extremely so!_" She replied glibly. "Not a soul will be left ungifted under my supervision!"

As she drifted around another corner, though, her unfaltering speed was forced to halt as she dodged a golden poleaxe that was sent to tear out the transmission of the motorcycle. The dodge was absolutely incredible—she lifted the entire chassis off of the street and allowed the poleaxe to soar underneath the wheels, letting it impact against a nearby building instead. As she hit the ground again, bruising Shirou's privates once more and causing tears to leak from his eyes, she turned the bike to the side and stopped on the shoulder of the road.

"Who dares to intrude upon the light of Santa Claus, bringer of cheer to children everywhere?!" She yelled angrily to the rooftops, demanding their obstacle to show themselves.

"_Silence, mongrel!_" She was given a reply, and they both looked down the street to see who had spoken. Two people stood in the middle of the wide avenue, one that he recognized to be that infuriating fake priest, the other a blonde-haired man in a biker's outfit—definitely a foreigner. "This absurdity has been allowed to go on for too long!"

"Somehow, I find myself unsurprised that you are at the center of this, Shirou Emiya." Kirei Kotomine spoke, his dark voice amused.

"Damn priest..." Shirou managed to groan out. "Aren't you supposed to be happy to celebrate another one of your holidays?"

Shirou would have been happy that this tornado that was his Servant had finally been stopped, but dealing with that bastard completely turned the scales in the other direction. He hated that man so much, an emotion he thought he was incapable of feeling for the longest time.

"Heh." Kotomine allowed himself one chuckle. "Perhaps I would be, were it the 24th of December. But as Overseer for this War, I cannot allow such rampant destruction to affect so many lives. You must be stopped, for the sake of the secret of magecraft."

"I care not for that, Kirei." The blonde-haired man said, looking to his partner. "I have sat back for far too long as a fake deity has been worshipped and celebrated. The humans of this time are pathetic, but perhaps they would redeem themselves ever so slightly if they would only devote themselves to celebrating what is truly important—my victory over the gods!"

"A most felicitous holiday, King Gilgamesh." Kotomine nodded in his direction.

"Do not pretend to fawn over me, Kirei." The now-named Gilgamesh squinted at the priest. "Lying to the King is punishable by death." He turned once more to Shirou and his Servant. "Hmph. What a miserable duet of fools. Even the Heroic Spirits that could perhaps entertain me are offensive. You imitate the Saber of the last War, yet you lack all of her beauty and make yourself out to be a mockery of her."

"I know not of what you speak of," Rider finally said, "but I am nothing but the one who delivers happiness to the people. If my visage offends you, then I will strike you down, for I will not tolerate insults to Santa Claus."

Her fellow blonde was quiet for a moment. Then he started chuckling softly, and then his chuckles turned into laughter. His laughter grew and grew until it echoed all around them, resonating in the silence of the evening.

"_Ahahahahaaaah!_" He wiped away tears of mirth as his amusement finally died down. "Such a disgusting faker threatening me? Perhaps there is a spark of entertainment to be found here."

He looked at them with the cool eyes of a predator, a light smile gracing his features.

"You have the thanks of the King for that, mongrel. You are permitted to enjoy my gratitude before your execution."

"Shirou," Rider spoke quietly, her voice filled with determination. "Release the sleigh. It seems that I must go all out."

Shirou felt like perhaps he was supposed to feel a modicum of fear in the face of a man who was clearly emanating enough killing intent to paralyze him and perhaps force him into unconsciousness. Yet... it was strange, but he felt like being in the aura of his Servant was shielding him from that. He found the hooks that had attached the sleigh to the bike and unhitched it, then turned forward once more and wrapped his arms around her torso. She patted his hands with one of hers, a gesture of affection he never could have expected.

"You have served me well tonight, Shirou." She said softly, turning to smile at him. "I appreciate you more than you will ever know. Thank you."

He blushed and pushed his face into her back, hiding from her kind gaze. He was allowed a few moments of embarrassment before she pushed him away, and then their happy diversion faded into the seriousness of facing an enemy Servant. Dozens and dozens of golden portals opened around and above the two men, weapons reaching out from each of them, chambering to be fired.

Artoria revved the engine once, twice, three times. That was all the time they had before the weapons began to launch out of their portals, flying towards them at what was definitely close to the speed of sound. But she had no patience for their slow attempts to skewer them, and the bike howled as she drove forward, dodging every projectile as they flung past them.

A hundred more portals opened to their side, and she tsked, throwing the bike down into a drift that had Shirou's face centimeters away from the road. But this time he was ready, stabilizing himself to not touch the asphalt, gripping tightly to the bike with his legs. The weapons flew above them, though a couple were able to ping against their vehicle. Both of the weapons bounced off, shattering as they hit the ground or an innocent building.

Gilgamesh growled, waving a hand to force even more portals to open up, aiming from above and both sides of their vehicle to try to catch them. Artoria quickly recovered from her skid and drove the bike even faster as more and more weapons attempted to hit them, following their path. She slipped onto the sidewalk easily, and then as if gravity was but a social construct, she lifted the bike once more and threw its wheels onto the side of a nearby skyscraper, turning it so that she was driving upwards.

Shirou held on for dear life as he felt that social construct reach eagerly to grab him. Window panes shattered innumerable golden weapons crashed around them. They rode ever higher, wind rushing past in all directions as Rider fought against both gravity and the onslaught of Gilgamesh's seemingly infinite collection of Noble Phantasms. They did not have very long before the skyscraper ran out of surface to give them, and the motorcycle launched off of the edge into the sky.

Artoria maneuvered the bike around to have the front wheel facing the ground. As she twisted, what seemed like a thousand portals opened up beneath them. There was no way that they could dodge their way through this one.

"Shirou," she said calmly, as if their deaths were not directly imminent. "I need you to take the handlebars."

"What?" He replied, but he didn't have any more time. She let go of the bike and rolled into a frontflip, pushing off of the headlight cover and towards the portals.

"_GO!_" She screamed, and as if an instinct he had never known before suddenly flared to life, he grabbed onto the handlebars and twisted the accelerator. Defying every law of physics related to motion he had learned in secondary school, the motorcycle eagerly spun its wheels and started flying forward after his Servant, being helped along by gravity. He was scared, he was terrified, but somehow seeing her in front of him made him want to chase after her.

The portals fired their barrage, and he almost closed his eyes. But he had to keep them open, if not to witness his own death, just to witness his Servant. And witness her he did; she pulled out her sword and somehow managed to accelerate towards the ground even faster. She yelled, and in her wake he saw her parrying and deflecting every single weapon that was approaching anywhere near the both of them. It was majestic, watching this female Santa defending their lives as they plummeted towards the ground.

She was not invulnerable—multiple blades slashed at her, leaving long bloody marks across her body and cutting into her Santa outfit. But she refused to react to them, and she made her defence impenetrable for her Master, if not for herself. Shirou realized for the first time in this entire War that his Servant was beautiful, not just because her features were of an ethereal elegance, but because despite her dark origins her entire body was defined by justice. His heart soared.

Somehow, impossibly, they plunged through the wall of portals without any further injuries. As they fell, she floated back to the motorcycle and grabbed his right hand.

"Shirou! Command me!" She clutched his hand and stared into his eyes. An impulse to kiss her knocked on the door of his mind, but this was probably a bad time, so he refused it entry. He held his hand forward to the ground, her own still gripped onto him, and felt the magic inside the last Command Seal surge.

"_End this!_" He commanded, and a red pulse flew outwards. She grinned and turned to the ground.

"_Excalibuuuuuur..._" She held her sword upwards, pointed towards the sky, and a red and green light shot upwards, missing him by a hair. He leaned back to avoid it further and felt the energy coming from it intensify.

"_SANTA CLAUS!_" With her attack announced, she slashed her sword forward, and the light that stretched towards the sky was pointed at the ground. Shirou did not get to see the last moments of that bastard priest or the arrogant king, as his vision was blinded in the colors of Christmas. His ears were deafened by a blast of sound louder than anything he had ever heard before, though somehow through it the faint sound of jingle bells rang out.

Shirou grunted as the bike was flung out from under his legs, and then his body was clutched in a pair of arms, and then they hit the ground. He coughed in pain; his ribs were definitely bruised, if not broken. He turned and fell to the side, feeling gravel dig into his back.

After a period of silence where the only thing he could hear was the sound of rubble falling, he felt someone sit on his chest, which made his ribs complain loudly. He opened his eyes to find that, unsurprisingly, it was Rider sitting on him, a smug smirk on her face. Her Santa hat had fallen off and her outfit was ripped and torn in multiple places, but a deep satisfaction radiated out from her.

"You did very well, my Master." That was the first time she had called him by that title for the whole War. "That was an enemy that might have been beyond my capabilities, but your support allowed me to overcome this obstacle, and Christmas has been saved." Then the smugness fell away, and her smile was completely genuine. "Thank you for your help."

"Um... my pleasure." He replied, and they stared at each other quietly for a few moments.

"Can... can I kiss you?" He finally said, and her yellow eyes sparkled.

"Yes, I suppose you deserve a special, personal gift from Santa this year." The smugness returned for but a moment, and she leaned forward to give him his present.

* * *

**The only thing I regret is that it is not December, so this is not seasonally appropriate. Perhaps around that time I'll give her a fluffy follow-up.**

**I hope you guys enjoyed reading this as much as I did writing it. This chapter deserves to be read while** _Clattanoia / Eurobeat Remix_**, created and uploaded onto Youtube by Turbo, plays on loop in the background. I wrote this in three hours because of that song, and was inspired by another one of his Eurobeat remixes.**

**Today's ending theme is **_LLL_** by Myth & Roid.**

**Aberron took one look at this and told me "10/10, that was amazing." so I think he gave it his seal of approval.**

**Thanks for reading.**


	15. Kiara Sessyoin 3

_Cold. Very cold. Like frostbite that bound joints together. Barely able to think. Barely able to feel. Fingers reaching like the legs of spiders just to touch a screen. Just to pick up a pencil. Just to jot down notes. Just to pick up chopsticks. Arms weren't bending correctly, was that tendons pulling in the wrong direction? So many sensations that were disgusting, vile, nausea-inducing... what kind of monster could elicit them?_

_Ah. Right. She was that monster. _

_Footsteps touched a cold metal floor and echoed in a cold metal space like the cold of space because space was freezing cold because there was no atmosphere to retain the heat because very few planetary bodies had the conditions to create a perfect garden world but this particular world wasn't so picture-perfect because it allowed people like her to be real and force suffering upon others because she was damned from the start she had always been damned and she would be damned forevermore because_

_She let the shock of frigidity shake her core awake from its haze. Yes, the fog was beginning to lift, and the metal was a little brighter under the blue fluorescent light. She put her fingers to her lips and felt her breath come out clouded in red. She touched the inside of her mouth, behind her lower front teeth, and then pulled out her fingers. Blood? When did she start bleeding? Why was she bleeding? She couldn't taste blood, but then again, she couldn't really taste much of anything right now._

_She wiped the blood off on the inside of her wrist, under her sleeve, and walked slowly to the door. The door was made of the same metal as the rest of the room, and the bedframe, and the ceiling fan which spun in languid laps despite the fact that the room most definitely did not need to be cooled down any further. It was so cold, but she wasn't shivering. She knew she was cold, she could feel it down to her bone marrow, like her individual cells were slowing down and stopping. But the reflex wasn't triggering, and so the cold crawled down further and further into her._

_Like fingers like tongues like_

_Her hand held the knob, unpolished brass colder than ice. Brass worn by years of use, human oils that had made layers over the metallic skin. She ran her palm over it, letting its history wash into her. She wanted to hear it sing but it was silent, just like everyone else. If it would not speak to her, then she would prevent it from ever speaking again. She forced it into a stranglehold in her hand, choking the life out of lifelessness. _

_The knob surrendered and turned for her. The lock inside clicked, like the bang of a hammer on a gong, and the door swung open into her, and a hand latched onto her neck like so many had before and then she was in a painful embrace and lips were upon her lips and_

Shirou awoke, panicked. Sweat dripped down his face, out of his underarms, pooling underneath him on the futon. He tasted blood on his tongue, like a puddle had gathered inside of his mouth, and spat it all out onto his blanket. He could still feel the cold, and his body wouldn't stop shivering. He looked at his fingernails, and there was way too much blue for him to be at a comfortable temperature. He gathered his blanket around him and wrapped it as tightly as he could. Luckily, it was a thick blanket, seeing as he lived in a Japanese home during the wintertime, so it provided a good measure of resistance.

He still couldn't stop shaking, though. That wasn't going away. Something in that nightmare had penetrated through the traditional barrier of the Dream and touched his physical body. Something inside that nightmare had... _scared_ him. He had not felt fear in a long time because the old nightmares had subsided, because he hadn't dreamed in so long. Dreams were never a bastion of pleasantry, or a place to ruminate on his memories; they had always been made of tendrils of flames and columns of ashes and eyes that accused and reminded him of ▇▇▇▇.

But no. This was not one of those nightmares. This was something that he could not begin to understand. He had not a single iota of commonality with the person in this dream. Shirou sighed and wiped the sweat off his forehead with his blanket, then frowned.

_I need to wash the futon... and the pillow... and _definitely_ the blanket... damn it, that blood's going to be hell to get out._

He got up from the floor and took out the pillow covers, then picked up all of the sheets. It was quite bulky, so he was very careful when he made his way through his home, silent as it was. No need to disturb his guests with his own troubles. It took a little while of making his footfalls soft enough to not creak any of the old floorboards, but he did make it to the washroom. He was lucky that it was so far from most of the bedrooms, as it wouldn't make enough noise to wake anyone up.

First, he placed everything in his hands down on the floor and washed his face with some cold water, making sure to scrub out all of the bloodstains around his mouth. Then he washed the bloodstain under cold water, and while it was soaking he grabbed his shampoo and lathered it in his hands. He scrubbed vigorously with the shampoo until his hands were red, and then a little further beyond. Because of the rapidity with which he did this, he managed to save the blanket and get the bloodstain out, leaving only the faintest outline that there was anything there in the first place. That would come out in the wash.

After placing all of the stained bedding in the washer, he grabbed a long towel and used it to wipe himself off of sweat and water. It looked like he had just come out of the pool with how wet he was. He was very glad that no one had spotted him taking the sheets to the washroom, as this would look quite embarrassing if seen without context. Once he had finished cleaning himself, he let the towel join his sheets. After placing detergent and softener in, he turned the machine on. It rumbled in agreement with his previous thought, almost seeming to chuckle at his predicament.

He started to walk back to his room, his mind set on getting another futon, blanket, and set of pillow covers out. He really just wanted to go back to sleep, though he knew it would be difficult at this point. However, when he passed by an open set of doors that he hadn't noticed before, he spotted a figure sitting on his porch. No, not just an unknown silhouette, it was his Servant. She was leaning against the wooden doorframe, her head tilted slightly up. He followed her gaze and realized that she was staring at the moon, currently in its waxing crescent phase.

Her hand emerged from her sleeve in a subtle motion, lightly tapping the wooden floor beside her. It took Shirou a few seconds to figure out that she was asking him to join her. It took a few more for him to decide to do so, and he took slow steps towards her, eventually sitting down beside her. She was still dressed in her nun's garb, though she had put her hood down and had let her black locks fall down her back. He felt extremely underdressed, being only in his underwear that was still drenched in sweat from the nightmare, and _wow_ was this an awful time to realize that.

"Good evening," she said quietly.

"Good evening," he replied in turn.

There wasn't much else said for a little while. Shirou felt kind of uncomfortable being there in so little clothing, and then he shivered as the night air got to him. It brought back a little bit of the memory of the nightmare, which caused him to shiver even more. This was abnormal, as Shirou, though not impervious to the cold, had built up a decent resistance to it by now. But no matter how hard he tried to force it, the tremors refused to stop. It was like his body was trying to make up for the paralysis he felt in the dream.

Arms reached around and wrapped around his torso, and legs encapsulated his own. His head was pushed back against a soft pillow. Once the limbs had finished trapping him, he felt a gentle warmth spread out from where they were touching him. Slowly, spreading out from the centers of contact, the shivers began to subside. His breath fogged (_red not red never red_) as he calmed himself down. He hadn't even known he was hyperventilating until then.

"T-thanks." He said, and a chin rested on his hair in response. Then he saw that the legs that had trapped him were uncovered, and then it hit him that a nun's gown would not allow this kind of freedom of movement.

He blushed.

"Y-you aren't cold?" He asked, trying to stop his embarrassment from spreading any further.

"I have not felt the cold in a very, very long time," she replied. "In fact, I could almost say that I miss it."

"W-why? It doesn't feel very g-good." His attempt to lighten the atmosphere didn't work all that well.

"Because, Shirou Emiya," one hand reached up to cup his chin and cheek, the other went to his neck, running its thumb over his Adam's apple, "your body is constantly flooded with all sorts of stimulants that cause it to respond in various ways. The cold causes you to shiver, the heat causes you to sweat. The touch of a woman arouses you, as mine does now, and the loss of a limb causes it to go into shock."

_I really wish she hadn't noticed that, or at the very least hadn't pointed it out._

"But this... vessel that I have been placed inside, though on the outside resembles the human form very closely, lacks many of those features on the inside. For example, I am capable of having sex with you, but I do not have ovaries from which I can release eggs and begin to host a child. Were I to lose a limb, it would hurt greatly, but my body would not shut down, and it would only be a matter of supplying enough mana to allow me to regenerate it. As I am right now, I cannot feel the temperature of the air. Because I am touching you, I can sense the temperature of your body, but everything outside of that feels neither cold nor hot."

She let go of his face and neck and intertwined her hands with his again.

"I am as numb as a patient under anesthetic for the most part," she finished. "You should enjoy those sensations while you can."

He took a long pause to formulate a response to that.

"But... you said you haven't felt it in a long time. You weren't always a Servant, were you?"

He could almost feel her smile.

"You are smarter than you look," she said. He chose not to take offense to that. "In some sense, I could say that I have been some kind of servant in one way or another for most of my life, but in the way that you mean it, no. This is the first time I have manifested in this manner. It is... quite the experience. But before that, at a certain point in my life, I had dealt with a disease that damaged my nervous system in such a way that, like now, I could not detect temperature for multiple layers of my epidermis. Once, I placed my hand in a fire and watched as my skin began to char, and I felt absolutely nothing except a distant horror until it reached down to the muscle, sinew, and bone. Even then..."

She shook her head, and with that movement her black tresses fell forward over him.

"The human body is fragile, as you may know, and mine even more so due to other circumstances. I never tried something so drastic again, but I definitely noticed that when I would walk outside during a snowstorm, I would feel nothing at the touch of the snowflakes. It made me consider not using winter clothes at all, though my acquaintances urged otherwise."

"What else don't you feel?" He asked. She paused, then sighed.

"A better question would be, 'What are you still able to feel?' But I do not blame you for taking the obvious path. I will answer this second question instead, as the list is shorter. I have my five senses, and they are enhanced in such a way to give me combat prowess beyond any human alive at this moment. I can still smell and taste the food you cook, which is quite delicious, by the way. I have certain other augmentations as a Servant that are... well, not worth going into."

She reached her hand up and placed it on her chin, so that both rested on the crown of his head.

"I suppose that, were you to acquire a fleece blanket, it would be comforting to rest under and feel good on my skin. But as resting is not a great issue, it would be unnecessary and may even be left unused. Do not consider it, as it is unworthy of our limited time together."

Ignoring that statement, Shirou considered the idea. He felt that, apart from providing her with food, he hadn't been doing enough for his Servant. They would go on patrol during the evenings after dinner. Then they would come home and she would stay awake while he was allowed to sleep. She would watch over him as he went to school and continued his normal life for the most part. She was almost a non-entity, apart from the meals where he did not have anyone over, and also when she would watch him practice in the dojo. There was never a repeat of the bath incident, luckily.

"That's..." He broke the silence that had descended slowly. "I'm sorry. A life like that barely sounds like a life at all."

"Ufufufu." She giggled. "Do you feel that I am understimulated, my Master? You know that there is a very simple method to take care of that."

He could feel the blood rushing up to his cheeks rapidly, and was once again made aware of the state of their clothing, or rather, the lack of it.

"A-ah..." He was really bad at dealing with her when she got like this. "I... I don't think so..."

"Are you sure, _Master?_" she whispered huskily, and his arousal intensified by an order of magnitude. "I promise you that the solution is quite pleasant, as it is a carnal delight that cannot be replicated in any other kind of activity. In this regard, there is no doubt my senses are not dulled. I might even go so far as to say that they may be heightened. Is this something that you can, without any doubt whatsoever, deny that you want, _Master?_"

He was sure his face was as red as a stoplight right now. She had not changed the way that she embraced him in any way, but his perception of her touch had changed drastically.

"P-please..." He murmured. She giggled again.

"Mmm... I see. You have a strength of will that has captured your impulses and locked them deeply within yourself. In its own way, I find that beautiful. I won't entice you any further tonight." Her index fingers trailed up and down his own. "Please forgive me. It is in my nature to desire others, and you are quite the desirable specimen."

"U-uh..." He searched for a way to move the topic onwards. "I... um..."

"Ufufu." Her laughter touched the back of his neck in a way that made him shiver again despite no longer feeling cold. "I suppose I have spoken enough tonight. The stage is yours, my Master." This time, she didn't emphasize the title, which provided him some form of relief.

He inhaled deeply, centering himself again, or at least he tried to. As much as he could with a succubus' incarnation wrapped around him. His eyes found their way upward, searching for something to latch onto as a way to move on from the treacherous waters of her teasing. Eventually he locked his gaze onto the moon, its curve a wane imitation of a freakish smile. Unbidden, a memory came to his mind.

_A moon just like this, a man leaning on the doorframe, his gaze turned upwards. He searched for absolution, his lips mouthing a silent prayer that Shirou, at his young age, could not even begin to understand. The one eye that he could see shook, near tearful. _

_Why was his dad crying?_

He shivered as it passed through him, pushing away the accumulated warmth from his Servant's touch and words. Whatever arousal he had attained was swept away as the cold from the nightmare returned a thousandfold, and the shivering returned. Her touch ceased to heat, and all that replaced it was a ball of ice growing near his heart. She clutched at him a little tighter, but could do nothing against the encroaching frost.

"My father... he died right here." The words came after some time, when the shivers died down and were replaced by a blanket of cold that could not be protected against.

She allowed them to hang in the air without saying anything.

"It was... ah... about five years ago. We were sitting outside, watching the moon... I think it was full... and he was falling asleep. I remember telling him that if he was going to sleep, he should do it inside." A hollow chuckle escaped from his lips before he could stop it, and then his teeth chattered again. "He wasn't even forty, but he carried himself like he was seventy. He always had that 'wise beyond his years' feeling... or maybe it was more that he had seen too much. He would constantly stare out at the horizon, like he was searching for something in it. I had always wondered what it was..."

He stopped to collect his thoughts and breathe, another cloud of frozen warmth escaping him.

"He told me, after a little bit... that when he was young, he dreamed of being a Hero of Justice. That he wanted to save people. I asked him why he stopped. He said that... when you grow old, it becomes harder and harder to be a hero."

He sniffled, but didn't let the cold affect him any more than it already had_._

"At the time, I had found that a little hard to believe... he saved me, after all. I was going to die, and he saved my life. In that moment, before he had ever even told me about it, he embedded a fragment of his dream inside of me. I wanted to see more people smile like he did when he saved me. I... I asked him if he would never be a hero. He said yes, he would never be. And when he said that, he sighed so loudly... I think it was some kind of death rattle."

Shirou sighed deeply, as if to imitate his father, and after a moment wiped away some wetness in his eyes that he hadn't noticed except as a faint annoyance.

"So... then I told him that I would be a hero for him. I would take up his dream. And he said..."

He sniffled again, but couldn't really stop his runny nose at this point. It was only a symptom of the cold.

"'Thank goodness. I can rest easy now.' And he never opened his eyes again." He choked. He hadn't thought of those final moments since the funeral. He hadn't gone to visit his grave in years. He paid his respects at the shrine in his home, but that didn't have nearly as much meaning to it. The ashes rested below a grave behind Ryuudou Temple, and he never went to visit them.

"I..." His voice cracked, and he choked again. "I had so much to say to him... I needed to... tell him what he did for me..." _Hiccup_. "I wish I got to say thank you... I never did..." The shivers turned into shakes as sobs that came up from his diaphragm racked his entire body.

It had been a long time since he had cried like this. In fact... he couldn't quite remember the last time he had cried. He didn't cry when the gang of bullies beat him up in primary school, he didn't cry when he broke his arm at archery club, and he certainly didn't cry from talking about something so personal before this.

Her arms moved to hold him tightly, and for a few minutes she rocked him back and forth as he wept, the ball of ice inside of him beginning to thaw. It was the thawing of a glacier, but it was a thaw nonetheless. This was the first catharsis he had ever undergone since he was pulled out of the rubble, and though he felt like was about to vomit, some part of him felt like it had been released from a tight cage.

"There is not much I can do for you," she said after a little while, one hand rubbing circles on his back. "Once, perhaps, I might have had the tools to truly help you feel better, and solve the underlying issues of your psyche. I had lots of experience counseling others. But... as I am now, all of that is distant from me. As I am now, I can only be here in flesh, not in spirit."

Shirou didn't know what to say to that. He leaned back into her a little more, letting her own upright body support his. Unlike before, she was unable to melt the cold out of him, and his shakes refused to cease no matter how hard he wept. Instead, her touch reminded him more of the frozen soil underneath the winter snow. It could not fight the season, but it could wait patiently for the next. She was holding him like the earth protected the seeds that waited to bloom in the spring.

No one had ever supported him in any capacity before, so this was an alien experience to him. He couldn't find the energy in him to resist, though. He was tired from the nightmare, and purging those pent-up emotions had taken even more out of him. He couldn't keep himself awake for much longer, and found himself quickly falling back asleep.

The moon stared with a lidded eye at both of them, watching a young man come apart and then try to put the pieces back together over and over again.

* * *

**This chapter is dedicated, for lack of a better word, to the anonymous reviewer who said that despite the story being rated M, there had been only one serious chapter (Mysterious Heroine X 2). I disagree, but I will aim to provide nonetheless. That does not mean I am going to write gratuitous violence or smut, but that I will try to touch that other side of the soul as best as I can.**

**What comes in the future may disturb you. I will ask you to take a look at what I wrote in that chapter once again. I do not hurt people without a reason.**

**Aberron was, to my sadness, kept extremely busy on a variety of fronts and was unable to give this chapter the proper look it deserved. But I was blessed with a miracle in the form of TungstenCat, who gave this piece a piece of her mind and contributed to it something it needed: humanity. I am extremely grateful to her.**

**Speaking of which, you should go read her story **_Gold and Ash_**, a one-shot pairing piece on Jeanne Alter and Emiya Alter. I could never hope to achieve what she did there, and I admire her all the more for it. Please go read it and, even if you don't review this chapter, go review that. It deserves the attention. In addition to her, my friend Exstarsis wrote a Artoria Alter/Jeanne Alter one-shot based on the Holy Night Supper Craft Essence titled, appropriately,** _Holy Night Supper_.** It is also great, and deserves the attention more than my work does. If you are in the mood for something wildly different from almost any other Fate fanfiction out there, you should check out her ongoing story **_The Thirsty Girl's Guide to Summoning (aka Fate Isekai)_**. It's very niche, but very interesting.**

**Today's ending theme is **_Mourning of the Gone_**, by Theodor Bastard. **

**Thanks for reading.**


	16. Iskandar Omake

"Master, it is time to go!" The boisterous bellow of his servant carried through the house. "I have procured the conditions for your first victorious labor!"

Shirou leaned out of the kitchen to see what it was that Iskandar had thought up this time, only narrowly dodging a chef's hat thrown at top speed. The apron followed, bowling him over. "Rider!" He coughed, surprised. "I thought we were going to Ryuudou Temple tonight!"

"Wrong!" Shirou's ears burned. "Tonight, you begin your path to world domination!" Iskandar held both hands out, palms up. "I see now that the grail may yet deny my wish. I cannot abide by such a limitation! My glorious afterlife cannot be complete without the knowledge that you shall carry on my will!"

"With a chef outfit?"

"Yes!" Shirou then realized that his Servant had gotten one of the meaty paws he called hands upon his shoulder. His screaming complaints carried through the entire house out to the Gordius chariot, and then they were off into the night. Oddly, they were headed for the business district. Rider set them down in front of some kind of TV studio, the chariot screaming to a halt over his cries of complaint.

"What are we—"

"Quick, quick, through the backdoors! Your conquest cannot be denied!" Rider said, pushing enthusiastically. "After today, you shall be taking your first steps to becoming a conqueror. I have realized that this modern world may yet not accept a king of my superior caliber; to become the king of the entire world, you must first become a name spoken within every household. You must become known to all, and seen as a hero." The magic word made Shirou's heart pump faster. "You have a gift, my Master. I shall not let it squander in the dark. Nay! It shall be your tool to begin your conquests!"

With that, Shirou was shoved through a doorway onto a bright stage. He blinked, not able to see clearly for the first few moments, and then he was struck by the cheering. There was a crowd, with Taiga and Sakura in front holding a massive banner proclaiming his name in giant lettering. Students from his school packed the audience, along with Souichirou-sensei waving a small flag, his face as stoic as ever. Behind him, Issei and a number of priests from Ryuudou were here, along with a purple-haired woman that could only be Caster. She had a pile of treats in her lap and didn't seem at all concerned with the situation. But still, a Servant in the open was itself notable.

Shirou set his face and prepared to trace a weapon. "What a look of determination! Our final contestant has entered the arena, the noted chef of Copenhagen, Shirou Emiya! Such skill at a young age!" He couldn't tell who was speaking, but the announcer's voice dragged Shirou's attention to the stage he was now standing on. Cooking implements were all over, with industrial ovens and fryers everywhere. There were three sets of these, and Shirou could see Iskandar standing by one, flexing while holding two very large double boilers. "With that, team Emiya has entered the field! Also challenging chef Wolfgang Puck for his title is another little known local staple, chef Kotomine of the 'Church of God Soup Kitchen'."

Shirou's gaze went from the absolutely legendary Chef Wolfgang to the priest. Kotomine Kirei looked out of place wearing a chef's hat, while Servant Lancer stood at his side, wearing his armor underneath the apron. "The challenge tonight is for the Iron Chef rotation, and the chefs will be forced to make an entire dinner that incorporates four critical ingredients. We have fresh Hokkaido eggplant in today, Kobe beef, Seoul-made tofu, and seaweed from Tokyo's _Yamamoto!_ The chefs will need to use these high quality ingredients to make a dinner that will then be taste tested by three of our very own judges! They will be introduced later, so don't get too worried." The announcer laughed.

Shirou was forced to shake hands with Chef Wolfgang first. They shook, and he couldn't believe that he was actually touching, with his own hands, someone so famous in the world of cooking. As for Kirei, the priest drew him in close. "You know why I am here, do you not?"

"I couldn't guess." Shirou whispered, his tone steely.

"No magecraft." Kirei warned. "Or else."

"Fine." Shirou grinned. "Pure skill. I never knew you could cook."

"I practice upon the homeless, as no one cares if my concoction is inedible amongst them." Kirei whispered boastfully. "Perhaps I can kill the judges before your meal can ever reach them."

"You wouldn't dare!" Shirou said, in shock.

"I can and I will!" Kirei grinned wildly. "I shall show that you are worth nothing, Shirou Emiya. I shall defeat you as a chef, in the realm you claim to be so skilled in! The look on your face as victory lands in my hands..." The fingers of his other hand looked as if they were pinching salt upside-down as his face contorted in Italian-esque delight. "_Delizioso._"

The handshake had been going on thirty seconds too long by that point and they had to separate. Shaking with fury, Shirou came to his cooking station, looking at the high quality ingredients. It was beyond anything that he was allowed to work with at Copenhagen. "Rider, what have you done?"

"It is as I told you. You shall conquer the world. Your name will be in every home across the continents and Okeanos!" Iskandar bent the handle of the frying pan he was hefting. "Be it through a cookbook or television media, your name shall be on the tip of every tongue! Every savory flavour shall sing, and its name shall be Emiya!" He laughed long and loud, the sound only broken by a scoff from Servant Lancer. "Something to say, dog?" Iskandar grinned.

"Didn't you die from food poisoning?" Cu Chulainn said with an answering grin. "Can you even boil water, King of Conquerors?"

Iskandar looked more serious than Shirou had ever seen him. "Master, I cannot deny his accusation. I have absolutely no cooking skills whatsoever." The sound of his teeth grinding set Shirou on edge. "I cannot tolerate such an accusation! For my honor, Shirou! Destroy him!"

"Such spirited statements from our teams today, folks. Let the Iron Chef competition begin! You have 90 minutes, starting _now~!_" Shirou began with the broth. He had seaweed to work with, and it would do well inside of a miso soup. The tofu could be used there as well. Beef Katsu would use the same broth base, and the eggplant he would gently sear and then stuff with the raw miso and seaweed. His mind went through every recipe in his head, and with the time he had, that seemed to be the limit. Especially since he was cooking alone. Iskandar didn't know a saucepan from a double boiler.

"And the signature for each chef is coming out! Chef Kotomine is already beginning on the spiced base to his famous Mapo Tofu! His vegetable chopping looks as good as Chef Wolfgang's!" Shirou could start sweating as the cameras rolled over to him, his broth the only thing presented. "And Chef Emiya has set a broth to boil and is looking over the meat provided!"

He had worked with Kobe beef on occasion. Never for long, and never particularly fine cuts. These cuts were worth more than his wages could ever afford to buy, much less experiment with. Before he could panic, he felt a hand upon his shoulder.

"Your people are watching, Shirou." Iskandar stated. "I told them all to be here. You have their faith. Your own Hetairoi." Shirou nodded. His Servant was right. The beef separated quickly, the knife sectioning perfectly thin cuts for him. Real Kobe beef was so well marbled, and the knife glided through it without resistance. Shirou had to check that he was actually cutting meat a couple of times, it was surreal.

"Rider, prepare to make the rice." Shirou called. "I need a pot and a cover for the top." Iskandar could do that much. Shirou tuned out the noise around him, finding the next thirty minutes to be companionable. It was just him and Iskandar, managing something that he could do _right_. Of course, that was ruined when Lancer and Kotomine got into an argument.

"Why are you boiling Kobe beef?!" The priest yelled.

"I'm fecking Irish! The only thing I know how to make is corned beef!" Lancer shouted back, his face inches from the priest. "And besides, all you know is how to use that fake meat shit!"

In return, Kotomine Kirei squeezed his unprepared tofu with a chop of the wrist, spraying the unsuspecting Servant. Lancer recoiled, the soybean product having gotten into his eyes. "It cannot fail! I must see Shirou defeated!"

"What the hell is this?!" Lancer screamed, wiping his eyes out. "It's in my eyes! _Ahh!_" The Servant must have done something with his prana, because a second later one bloodshot eye was glaring at Kirei. Out came the blood red spear, which was then shoved into the boiling pot of beef. "I'll show you beef. The best damn beef you've ever tasted!" The Servant was using all of his speed, putting on a performance for the crowd. The tip of Gae Bolg must have been aflame, for there was no way the beef would be cooked enough in the time they had left.

Shirou spared a glance towards Iskandar, who was bored and fiddling with a ladle. "Rider, can you go and find me carrots? I need some shavings for the side dish."

Rider looked slightly uncomfortable. "The grail did not bestow me with such knowledge, Master." He said. "But I have utmost faith in your ability! In fact, I must go and fetch you a proper cape, of the same quality as mine! For your Victory!"

His Servant couldn't help him any further. His skills did not extend to the kitchen. Shirou made the mistake of looking up at Chef Wolfgang. The man was _triple_ wielding saucepans and frying pans. With his large belly he was somehow managing a sauce, while both hands were flipping eggs and stirring vegetables. Fifteen different ingredients were going in his hands all at once. Shirou had to stop and watch in awe for just a moment. It was exquisite, and he had never done such a thing. The other Chef gave Shirou a wink as his hips gyrated and the sauce carefully folded over.

There was only one thing for it. Shirou had to win here. To do that, he had to use every skill he had. "Trace on." He murmured, grasping. His mind was instantly filled by the skills and familiarity that Wolfgang had for his craft. Secrets and unknown tricks never before documented filled his mind, as well as the Triple-Pan Better-than-Sex manevuer. Shirou did a double take when the information about _that_ filled his mind. Chef Wolfgang was flirting with him. He was showing off and being romantic with Shirou of all people. And yet, the move was giving the chef every ingredient he needed for bibimbap all at once. That was just one dish out of six that the chef was rolling out. He was going to perfectly make the dish, and Shirou's meal was going to be subpar. He had to do more. He had to beat him.

Digging into his mind, he saw an option. "Rider!" Shirou called. "Bring _everything_! Everything from the vegetable cabinet!"

Not even Iskandar could foul that up. Soon enough, Shirou had his own pile of ingredients in front of him, as a curry began to take shape. His broth would be put to use again, and this time he would make a curry soba! The force of the knife cuts made Shirou's table rattle, his entire focus upon the endeavor. He lost track of his servant, he lost track of the other chefs, and there was only him alone with his craft. He couldn't compete with Lancer's natural speed. He couldn't compete with Wolfgang's experience. But he could beg borrow and steal enough to show that he had the potential to be the best.

_Who says a fake can't pass the original?!_

"Five minutes left!" The announcer bellowed. "Just five minutes left, look at them go!" Shirou would have to do it. There was no other way to finish searing the beef and cooking all the ingredients in time. With a flourish, he copied the Triple-Pan Better-than-Sex manuever. The only way he could feel comfortable doing it was if he was _not_ looking anywhere near Chef Wolfgang. So he chose the next safest location. Taiga, Sakura, and Rin were all sitting together. None of them would have any idea about what this technique symbolized, and if they ever found out, no one would find his body.

Shirou was as close to Buddha as he would ever get in this moment. Between the ingredients and the skill in the room driving him forwards, the last ingredient was plated and decorated with a leaf of saffron as the timer called. Shirou stepped back, his entire back slick with sweat. His hands shook, and his body was pounding with adrenaline.

"And that's it folks! Commercial break time!" Teams of people came out, rapidly cleaning every inch of the kitchens and the disaster that they had become. Cleanliness had been thrown out the door when you had been given ninety minutes to cook a masterpiece. With care and concern, all of the plates were brought up to the judge's table, the smell of the Kobe beef wafting into the audience. Taiga looked ready to swoon. Sakura and Rin were both leaning forwards with glee.

Kotomine's plates were simplistic, with vegetable wrappings over thick broiled beef. Mapo Tofu was on the side, steaming and spicy. Rice balls also decorated the dish, delicate strips of seaweed on each. It was an impressive appearance. While simple, all of the portions were the same size, and the colors were complementary.

Most impressive of all were the platters that Chef Wolfgang provided. Skewers of beef, combined with cutlets of fat decorating rice and vegetable rows were on every plate. At the center of them all were the thick stone bowls of bibimbap, the stone sizzling and smoking the rice and broth that were added.

Eggs, beef, seaweed, eggplant, and vegetables were added, finishing the sear that Shirou had worked so hard for. It was brilliant. The meat didn't need to be cooked within the time, as the bowl was finishing the job for him. Shirou could feel a ball of stress forming in his stomach, and he tried to stand straight up as the commercial break ended.

"Alright folks, let us present the chefs and their work!" Shirou was able to get his heart rate under control for the presentation, calmly explaining his dish. "Our judges have come from all across Japan to take their wild and varied experience with culinary dishes to see if our contestants have what it takes to continue on in Iron Chef!"

Three people stepped out of the side chamber, and Shirou choked. Rin was first, wearing a very different outfit that claimed her name was 'Kei Sakai, Michelin Star Chef'. Following her was Gilgamesh, his blonde hair in a careful bob. His name tag claimed that he was 'Marui Tozin, Food Writer'. Last but not least was Iskandar himself, his shirt bulging off of him and a beret upon his head. His nametag claimed he was 'LeMonte Chardinaille, International Michelin Food Reviewer'. His back started sweating in an entirely different way now.

"We are proud to present for you, our audience, our teams of contestants! Chef Shirou Emiya!" Shirou bowed, feeling his body weight draining in water weight by the second. "Chef Kotomine Kirei!" The priest bowed, looking not at all uncomfortable. "And our very own defending champion Chef Wolfgang Puck!" There was a polite round of clapping as the audience offered their input. Shirou got the most attention, as Iskandar had invited half the school to this. "Our judges shall now judge Chef Kotomine's work!"

Gilgamesh seemed happy to try the Mapo Tofu, but he only took the smallest of portions from the corned beef. "Much of the dish is passable. It may even feature on a restaurant's menu, but I find it is rushed work. Especially the beef."

"Fuck off goldie!" Lancer bellowed from off camera.

"It is the kind of food you would find in a pub." Gilgamesh politely cleaned his lips, the harsh rebuke going on camera without fear.

"Harsh words from Lemonte!" The announcer stated. "One of the harshest judges that we have, LeMonte has judged food from the best of restaurants. His word is commonly associated with the loss or gain of Michelin Stars."

Rin was far more acidic. "Too spicy. It might be winter, but this is just going to hurt most people with a more tender palate." She offered. "And the beef is excellent."

Lancer was doing a victory dance somewhere, Shirou knew. And then it came down to Rider. Iskandar, typical of his usual table manners, lifted the entire plate of corned beef and swallowed it. Then he drank the entire bowl of Mapo Tofu in a second large gulp. The audience was silent, shocked that he would inhale food without tasting it. "It's great!" Iskandar gave a thumbs up. Shirou was reminded that this was _his_ Servant. He would eat food out of a dumpster and consider it edible in this day and age. The sweating intensified.

Shirou's food was next, and with trepidation he saw Gilgamesh take apart his dish like a rampaging God. Every single layer of spice was judged, and every single ingredient was tested for its pliance. "I have to admit, it is better than the previous dish." Kotomine gave a choked cry. "Today, you are no mongrel. This is worthy of putting in front of the finest of tongues." Gilgamesh admitted. "I may have enmity towards you all," He probably meant all of Humanity. "But this dish holds none of that for my tongue at this moment. Today you are no mongrel."

It was praise of a sort. Rin of course didn't even wait for GIlgamesh to finish before digging into her plate. "The beef!" Rin said with no dignity at all. "It's so good!" She said around the aforementioned food. "I'm so lucky to have had it." Behind her, Taiga and Sakura were giving death glares towards Rin. "An absolute joy to experience!"

By the time they got to Iskandar, he had stolen Rin's plate and consumed that along with his own. The glare she gave was filled with rage. Shirou prayed that Iskandar would find it in him to say more than a paltry compliment in this moment. Thankfully his Servant did not fail to perform. "Yesss!" The Servant said, the folding chair crumpling under the flexing it was subjected to. "Not since the sacking of Babylon itself have I had such a satisfying meal!" He said. "The gates were opened to us and the very bounties of the earth were laid bare! This is but a fathomable slice of its glory revisited upon the human race!" Gilgamesh gave an agreeable nod, and Rin tried to fire a Gandr at Iskandar's leg.

The Servant calmly blocked with chopsticks, twisting the girl's hand towards the floor. "Bring on the final course!"

Wolfgang's meal would decide this. It all came down to this final plate, with its still sizzling egg and beef. Giglamesh looked pleasantly surprised. By the time his dainty fork had finished his bites, he looked less than pleased. "The meat was seared too long. If your dish had been judged first, it would have been perfect. Your presentation was beyond compare, the flavor combinations were delightful, and the spices remain on my tongue long after the food has passed. It shall burn into my memory with such a delightful passion." He said. "Though oddly enough I cannot taste the eggplant."

"I can't either." Rin mentioned. "The spice is washing it out." She was picking at her plate, her knife driven through the table where Iskandar had just tried to steal her plate once again. Shirou could swear it had a bit of blood on it. His Servant's dish was of course completely empty. It had been inhaled the moment it touched the table in front of him.

"It's _great!_" Was all he had to offer. Typical. He was nursing his left hand, Rin's cut deep into the thumb. "I'll take another helping all around."

"We judges will need to confer to decide the victor." Gilgamesh said, picking up all three plates and leaving the corned beef all on its own. Rin carried her remaining plates out, while Iskandar used his pinky to impale the remainder of Gilgamesh's corned beef. With one loud belch the entire meaty portion disappeared into his gullet and the judges walked out of view.

Shirou glared at Kotomine and Lancer. "Yeah, I'm going to win this." Shirou stated quietly.

"Oh, are you?" Kotomine grinned. "I stacked the judge's table twice with people who have lost all sense of taste on their tongue due to the spices I regularly employ upon them. Both Rin and Gilgamesh are used to and adore my cooking. You cannot possibly remove a decade of nostalgia from their nostrils and scarred tongues!" Kirei said, laughing. "You have but one Servant who could eat anything edible and consider it fine food, versus the combined efforts of years of neglect and disdain!"

Chef Wolfgang wisely said nothing and retreated, thanking his associate helper profusely. Shirou could recognize the silver white hair and tanned skin anywhere, and the Servant bowed to Wolfgang. "You dirty freaking cheat!" Shirou yelled. "You—!"

Archer walked over, smiling.

"Oh? I saw an opportunity to learn more and I took it. The chance to show you up was just a bonus." Archer said. "If I am going back to Alaya after this, it will at least be with those skills."

"I _detest_ you." He turned his glare to Lancer and Kotomine. "All of you."

"Music to my ears." Archer said with a smile.

"This just means that my victory shall be even more complete when I am victorious over the both of you." Kirei started saying, before Rin stepped back onstage in time to wave the priest over. "Twice the victory over Emiya. Yes, I can never again experience something so sweet."

"You want to unpause the Holy Grail War right here?" Lancer muttered. "There's cameras on us, you crazy priest."

"No, no. Let me meet with my ward and I shall be back momentarily." Kotomine walked off, Shirou and Archer giving him the signature Emiya death glare.

"I hate that guy." The two justice freaks and Lancer all said the moment he was out of earshot.

Once off camera, Kirei was nabbed by all three judges. Iskandar mostly. Gilgamesh ignored his plight, and Rin seemed to be in a tirade. A minute later, Kirei was returned, sans robes. Iskandar had made a battle standard from bamboo he found onstage and Kirei's robes, painting a white 'Iron Chef' upon the banner.

"Oh Lord... I haven't been touched like that since childhood." Kirei complained, shivering.

"We have come to a decision." Gilgamesh said, rubbing his right arm with concern, sending fleeting glances at Iskandar. "In the interest of not starting a war in which blood might be shed, we declare the winner of this round to be Chef Shirou Emiya!"

Shirou couldn't even rejoice in his victory for very long, as Iskandar grabbed him and planted him in front of the cameras. "On my signal, run for the doors." He whispered. It was his serious voice. "Chef Emiya has won! First Japan, and soon all that lies upon the world shall be his!" Iskandar bellowed, laughing long and loud. Shirou was handed his banner made from Kotomine's vandalized coat. "Go, champion! Become the next Iron Chef!"

Shirou was hoping that once the cameras went dark the Holy Grail War wasn't starting up again. Either way, he couldn't risk it. Taiga had watched someone else eat food he had cooked, and she was already building up a full head of steam. So, the moment Iskandar clapped him on the back, he bolted. The lights went dark, and his prana was pushing him to new limits. It wasn't enough.

Rider was right next to him, running for all he was worth. "Run, Master! Run for your life!"

"Why!" Shirou gasped.

"Saber saw me eat all of the food you made! Run if you want to live!"

* * *

**Just because I said that things would be disturbing in the future doesn't mean they were immediately going to be. This morning, Aberron and I had a phone call, and he gushed out this incredible idea that had us both laughing like little schoolgirls. He then proceeded to write this in about three to four hours, and it was very close to what you see now. Here's what he had to say:**

_**"****An army lives on its stomach, and Shirou embodies this truth. Behind him, marches the world! Kai su, teknon."**_

**Words to live by. **

**The ending theme for this chapter is "uptown funk but beats 2 and 4 are swapped" by YouTube uploader Adam Edmond.**

**Thanks for reading. **


	17. Mephistopheles

The boy was cleaning up after yet another dinner with the people he surrounded himself with so he could be anchored. He didn't want to be anchored, but he needed the anchoring, for otherwise he would float away and lose himself in fanciful idealism. Hah! What a pretty dream that he blanketed his soul in, so that he wouldn't ever have to feel again. Not quite playing the fool, for it would only be foolish were he to pretend as if he were human. One could look at him and say that he does, but no, he simply _acts_ the part. He knows that his existence is not like his classmate's, or his guardian's, or the girl that pines after him as she helps him craft his meals.

The trickster of German lore could not help but giggle to himself as he watched his Master act as professionally as the actors that played his part in his own stories.

As the boy walked out of the room, turning off the lights as he left, Mephistopheles turns to you.

"Despite his trauma, he holds a certain innocence in his heart." He says. "You see it, don't you?"

He laughs.

"Well, you see everything, I know." His teeth were shown in that devilish smile. "That is the nature of the reader, as my nature as narrator is to tell you what I see. I spin a web of truths and lies, tell tall tales for you to try to pierce through and see what lies behind."

His laughter was more intense this time, and he actually fell off of the table upon which he sat.

"_Hah!_ Are you the greater fool than I, for having followed a fool that follows the blind?" He rolled over and sat up, staring into your eyes. "That boy... his comfort blanket is so tight that he can almost see through the fabric. He can see what lies outside, he can see _human happiness_." He stood up and leaned on the kotatsu. "The girl, the purple one, she follows in his steps as if to imitate his gait, but she knows that her distortion is not as his. Her terror-"

He spins away from the chair, his arms stretched out as if to celebrate a new rain.

"-sourced from her own trauma is too tremulous, titillating as it is! Dear reader, do you see how her eyes latch onto him, and then dart away when she notices herself? Can you see someone like her crawling into his bed and begging for his embrace?"

He holds a hand out, stopping both your perspective and his monologue.

"Ah... but are the people we see truly what we see them to be?" He opens the door slowly, quietly tiptoeing through the hallway, stopping outside the door of his master. He brings a finger to his lips, takes your hands in his, and slips through the door.

The sound of grunts and moans are a constant drone. You turn your eyes, and they are embraced. A boy like him lost in an animal lust, and a girl like her demanding that he give himself over to her body and soul.

A tap on your shoulder. You turn, and his grin is bright.

He nods and takes your hands once more, sliding through the door again as if he were not real. You are in the hallway, but still their sex echoes.

"Is it beautiful or ugly?" He asks, though he must know that an answer is impossible. "They are disgusting, abhorrent creatures, and yet the purity of their need resonates in my dead heart."

His hand flutters on his chest as if to mock a heartbeat.

"What, or who beholds their beauty?" He asks, spinning and frolicking once more, beckoning for you to follow. "The shadow? The worm-beast? The priest begging to see his salvation again? The eye need not be physical to see it, you see. They are in a Dream of their own making, something that cannot be grounded as our own lives are."

He snorts.

"Well, as yours is. My life is a figment of a fragment of a fiction." His smirk never left, but now you see that its brightness has dimmed. "For five centuries, seen solely through solemn soliloquies, have I been understood as a devil, or The Devil."

He stops at the glass that had been repaired, where no signs show of the moment that the boy fought for his life a second time.

"A role that I embrace wholeheartedly." He holds his hand out to the glass, staring at his spindly fingers as he flexes them, long fingernails like claws nearly scratching the glass. "For, as the great playwright writes, we act on this stage for so short a time, are our roles truly worth refusing?"

He looks at you.

"Or perhaps you wouldn't understand." His voice is soft. "For this is but one tale in a series that you will absorb, and then move on from, forgetting that characters are not simply actors, and actors are not their characters." He raises an eyebrow at you. "I will not claim that we are people, because a tale is a tale, not a memory. Perhaps you will find a connection to one of us, or perhaps you will hate every single one of us. But ultimately, do you leave us with a dent in your soul? Or will you walk away absently, because as a fiction we are devoid of meaning?"

He knocks on the glass pane in front of him, and it disappears.

"You, too, are as such." He walks backwards towards the shed, staring into your eyes as you follow him. "You know that, don't you? Like the boy, you may have a purpose or a goal, but you feel it in your heart that you are not here by intention. There is no grand design in place that allowed you to exist, is there? You are an absurdity and an abnormality. Both the protagonist of your story and the side character in another's. Both in existence and non-existence."

He smiles as you both enter the shed.

"So between the two of us, who is more real?" He sits down in the middle of the magic circle that was still burnt into the floor. "I, the fiction? Or you, the weightless?"

You have no answer.

"That is what I thought."

* * *

**The alcohol's beginning to wear off. I might delete this come the morning. No one has looked at it, so any errors are my own fault, or the rum's.**

**Morning edit: I feel bad adding anything more to this, as the chapter came out to be exactly 1,111 words. It appears you guys actually liked it, so I'll leave it up. No idea if I'll ever write another one, though it's quite possible I will get drunk enough to be able to. **

**Your ending theme is a cover of the Fleetwood Mac song **_Little Lies_**, by Spencer Newton.**

**Thanks for reading.**


	18. Caster of Midrash 2

As the bell rang, chairs scraped against the hard floor, and the students gathered in their groups to socialize. Shirou calmly put his books in his bag as he had always done, in ascending order of prismatic colors which he had attached to certain subjects; red was history, orange was social studies, yellow was health, green was english, blue was mathematics, purple was science, and the indigo-violet was dedicated to Japanese. This structure is something that allowed him to operate as if on clockwork mechanisms for the past ten years, which tended to estrange a lot of his classmates. He was lucky to know Issei and Shinji, though the latter was slowly becoming more and more distant, and Shirou did not know if their relationship could ever be repaired.

He slung his bag over his shoulder and made his way out of the school. Occasionally someone would stop to greet him in the hallways, and he would return one to them, but he continued to feel disconnected from the majority of everyone around him. It was not something that bothered him, of course. A Hero of Justice would only get to see a smile when they were able to save someone, and so while he treasured the ones he was able to see now, he knew that the future he wanted for himself would have him remain disconnected. He accepted his fate.

The afternoon sun painted the school grounds and the students that continued to reside there in orange, and he enjoyed the faint warmth it allowed him while he could, for Fuyuki's nights were never warm in the wintertime. He was able to smile faintly because of it. Perhaps it was not something that a Hero of Justice was supposed to feel, but there were many small joys in life that he found too valuable to ignore. Perhaps what saving people meant wasn't necessarily rescuing them from a burning building, but simply allowing them to see the little joys in their own lives. That thought was just part of an entire theory of the idea of saving people that he had been developing slowly for a few years now. With Caster's encouragement and guidance, he had been given new perspectives on the concept as well.

Despite whatever animosity she had felt for him on account of what she called his "foolish behavior that even an infant would know not to engage in", their relationship had gone from cordial to amicable in a short timespan. He wondered if part of that was because of the comment she had made offhandedly the other night.

"_I married a man like you once."_

Though he paid attention in history as best as he could, Shirou could not begin to figure out who his Servant was, let alone the husband she mentioned, though he understood her to be royalty. The man she had married clearly held great significance in her heart; it felt very obvious that she would prefer to remain halfway between a delusion of continuing to be a married woman and the cold reality of being a widow. She was not ready, nor did she want to be ready, to move on from the loss. It was not something she ever said, but despite the fact that Shirou had a lot of issues understanding other people, he would always sense that she carried the weight of grief around with her.

Despite this she had no issue as far as physical contact went. He couldn't help but blush as he thought of the passion she showed around him that she never gave to Illya or anyone else. Personal space was not a barrier for her, and though he clearly was not her husband in any romantic or sexual sense, she would sometimes get very close and pull him to her in a way that he would be trapped in her embrace, or she would grab onto his arm and not let go for a few minutes. It would feel possessive, if not for the fact that she would purr, which caused him to see her more as a cat that latches onto a toy they liked (he certainly did not feel like her owner, despite having the title of Master). It was a strange comparison, because her features did not resemble one closely at all, yet that was what he felt from her.

It was a strange kind of affection, but ultimately... well, maybe this is how she needed to be saved. Maybe this is the way he could help her with her loss. He didn't know how else to help, as the only loss he had dealt with crippled him deeply, and to this day he felt in some capacity he was still lost without the guidance of his foster father. But like how Fuyuki had to rebuild after the destruction of ten years ago, he too had to move on, and if he couldn't figure out a way to rebuild what he had lost, he had to patch over it so that no one else could see it.

He felt it before anything else—a presence beside him. It startled him, and he began to turn to face whoever would appear so suddenly, but calmed down as Caster faded into view, red robes of regality garbing her in a cloak of majesty. This aura was ruined by the sly smile she sent him, and the way one of her arms snaked out to latch onto his.

"Good afternoon, Master." She said. "How was your day at school?"

Both she and Illya had been extremely cross at him when he said that he wanted to continue going to school despite the Grail War going on, but it was not something that he wanted to let go of unless something extremely urgent came up. This War was something that would change him, and hopefully that change would be for the better, in the direction of his dream. But at the same time, like the way he enjoyed the afternoon sunlight, he wasn't quite ready to let go of the structure that school provided to his life. It allowed him to retain a sense of normality, something that grounded him in the chaos that had engulfed his life. It had always been this way; through the days of ten years ago where he could not sleep most nights of the week for fear of seeing flames again, through the slow attempts at repairing his lack of self so that he could pretend to be human again, through the weird stares and the laughter and when Minoru Tasaki broke his arm in Physical Education in his fifth year of schooling because he thought that the way Shirou always stood by himself was creepy.

That was all he could clutch onto.

"It went well." He said quietly as they walked. She did not wrap herself around him this time, but one hand kept a firm grip on his school jacket. "I repaired some projectors before the day started, and during lunch I worked on a pair of flickering lights in the first year's bathrooms while I ate. I think I helped some people today."

Her grip tightened a small degree.

"I see." Her voice was calm but tense, and her earlier smile was nowhere to be found. Despite what had developed between them, she would still criticize him heavily for helping others without compensation. He was expecting her to lecture him again right now, but she remained silent for a long time. That was how their walk to his home remained until he reached a particular intersection, and when he made to turn right, she stopped him.

"We're going somewhere today before we return home." She stated.

"Illya will be unhappy if we're not home on time." He countered, though he knew that it was futile.

"She has dealt with many unpleasantries in her life," her lips curved upwards, barely enough to be a mockery of happiness, "one more of a minor nature will not kill her."

Caster was very serious about this. After a moment he nodded, and she pulled him in the opposite direction of the road he was going to take home. She was now pulling him along by his sleeve, gently but with urgency. Whatever they were about to do was obviously very valuable to her, so he let himself be pulled along at her pace.

They passed through suburban neighborhoods into the more rural section of Fuyuki, where large plots of land that used to be farms lay scattered around. The sea shone with the descending sun, and the sunlight let Caster's robes glow in shades of yellow and orange, mirroring the star that wished farewell. Her hair brightened from its natural indigo to violet. In that moment, Shirou felt that she truly exuded the aura of a monarch.

Then her hair fluttered from a rogue gust of wind and hit him in the face, causing him to sputter, and the illusion was ruined. She laughed at him, and though he was willing to take offense, seeing her smile again made it worth taking the hit.

It did not take long for them to arrive at their destination: the beach. Specifically, a section of beach that was not an idyllic spot for swimming or any other kind of summer activities. The sand was littered with large, sharp stones that made it dangerous to step without care, and the route to the sea was blocked with even larger figures of cement—the remnants of buildings? Fortifications? He was unsure, but it was clear that this was an area desperately in need of attention.

But that was not Caster's aim. She guided him through the terrain and had him step alongside her on top of one of the largest pieces of cement. They slowly climbed up to its peak, where even the soft ambience of the rural land faded away, and all that Shirou could hear was the sea crashing against the shore. A large wave slapped against the building they stood on, and then receded to the sand once more.

Caster pulled on him once more, indicating for him to sit down, which he did. It was not particularly comfortable, but he did his best to find an easy resting position. She then proceeded to sit in his lap, an unexpected action by far that he grew very uncomfortable with. She was cross-legged between his legs, which were splayed out forward, and her shins rested upon his knees. She leaned against his chest, her hands firmly settled in her own lap. He blushed.

"Uh." He grunted intelligently.

"I need you to focus, Master." There was no humor, no lilt, nothing to indicate she was playing with him in some manner. This allowed him to snap out of his embarrassed funk and calm down, and he was able to do as she asked.

"What do you need me to do?"

"Well, like I said, focus." A little bit of the playfulness returned, though it did not remain for long. "I must ask you something very personal, and while normally I would give you the opportunity to refuse to answer, it is very important. Are you a religious man, Master?"

Shirou considered that.

"Not any more than most people I know, apart from Issei, who's a monk-in-training." He replied. "I go to the temple at New Year's with Fuji-nee, I make offerings at... my dad's shrine, and I try to visit him every once in a while. But I don't really think about it most of the time."

"Mm." She thought over his response. "You are familiar with Abrahamic faiths, correct?"

"Er... no?"

"I refer to Christianity, Judaism, Islam."

"Oh, uh, yeah, I guess." Those were mostly names without much meaning to him. Many Christian holidays were given secular meanings in Japan, so while there was a presence of the faith, it lacked substance behind it.

"Then you are familiar with God."

"Y-yeah."

There was a silence for a long time, and the waves gathered around them, curiosity making them hold their collective breath, as he waited as patiently as he could.

"I lived a very long time ago, Master." Her voice was... tired. It was an exhaustion that he had only heard from his father near the end of his life. It frightened him. "When I was alive, the man who is called the son of God was likely barely a thought in his Father's vast consciousness. Or perhaps to attempt to attach a mortal metaphor like that onto the Divine is untrue, as a being like Him is eternal and unknowable."

She gave a hollow laugh that sent a chill down his spine.

"I think He will forgive me if that is considered some kind of blasphemy."

She stopped and took in a deep breath.

"There is something... warped and wrong in this city." She was quiet and grave. "I cannot precisely see it, my husband was the one who had Clairvoyance, and I feel as a babe in a dark room grappling for the exit compared to the things he saw. But I can feel it. I can feel the chill in my heart, I can feel the connection in my soul to the Grail, and there is something inside of it... a corruption too terrible to name. I..."

She didn't finish the sentence, and he dared to put the back of his hands on her knees, opening his palms to her. He did not know if she would take well to it, as he had never initiated contact before. But it was clear that she appreciated the action, as she easily settled her hands inside of his, interlocking her fingers between his own.

Her grip was cold.

"...What kind of person do you think God is, Shirou?" Her voice was carefully measured and hesitant.

There was absolutely nothing that he had ever learned or experienced that could prepare him for a question like that. But a Hero of Justice does not walk away from hard questions. "I can't really be sure... but God has to be good, doesn't he? Isn't that, like, the nature of God?"

Her hands held his tighter.

"I wonder..." She whispered, then shook her head, her hair tickling his nose once more. "No, it doesn't matter. Master, I am going to engage in a ritual of my faith right now. I do not need you to assist me with it, but I need you to... be here. Something is going to happen and I need to have a connection that grounds me to the mortal plane right now. Please... please don't leave me." Her voice grew weak near the end.

Kiritsugu Emiya was not an affectionate father, so Shirou was not very experienced in providing it to others. At that moment, his ideals, his instincts, and his ethics screamed in unison that someone was asking him to save them right now. There was only one answer.

"Never." He wrapped his arms around her.

"...thank you." Her gratitude was a fulfillment of a kind he had never known, and he felt satisfied, though he knew his duty was not over. "If I say something strange, just ignore it."

And then a long, long, long string of alien words streamed out of her mouth and, despite the fact that he could still see the waves crash against the shore, their sound ceased. The foreign language was unending, she didn't even seem to be breathing, only rocking back and forth very faintly. Shirou was unable to become any less frightened.

She finally stopped, took a quick breath, and then it started once more, hasty and fearful. That certainly didn't help him feel any better. He didn't know what to do, feeling somewhat like a bystander watching someone deal with a seizure. All he could do was clutch at her a little more tightly. He could feel her lungs, static and unmoving, yet somehow continuing to produce enough air for her to speak so rapidly. There was a tension in every muscle of her body.

Another gasp of air.

She ripped his arms off of her and stood up violently, stumbling as she did so but uncaring about the error. Her gaze was turned up towards the sky, and the words she spoke went from urgent to begging. She was coming very close to screaming a plea up to the heavens, her arms held outwards and upwards, reaching after her prayer. With her silhouette illuminated by the fading sunlight, perhaps Shirou might have been able to see this as another kind of regal beauty, as he did before. Instead, he was paralyzed, not wanting to let go of her so that she would know he hadn't left her, but also not wanting to interrupt the ritual.

_What do I do? What do I do? What am I supposed to—_

He didn't have to wonder for long. His heart stopped.

_the Reddened Sign marked upon flesh, marked upon steel_

_the graves of a thousand forefathers, unmarked and unknown_

_a gaze of time curved into a Möbius strip_

**A SEA OF EGGSHELLS, A BEACH OF YOLK**

_his mind was filled with the whispers of the blessed_

For your children, your children's children, and your grandchildren's children forevermore.

_a cascading cavalcade of Chaos, a conundrum_

**A SOUL BOUND TO A SOUL**

_you are wanting _

What do you seem?

**SEVEN SIGNS, SEVEN ENDS**

_he swallowed his tongue down his trachea and it tasted like ash_

_crying couldn't communicate the cold so it died in the heat_

Show me your scars.

**YOUR STORM OF SWORDS SAVES NOTHING**

Silence me.

_silence US_

**YOU ARE SILENT**

He awoke.

His heart jackhammered, his lungs screamed, he gasped. He was in pain. His arms were on fire. His chest was on fire.

But he was not on fire.

He was laying on his back on the cement. The sun had set long ago, and the night had grown cold, very close to freezing. He inhaled, and the air soothed his aching mind, but then he could taste the blood that pooled in his mouth.

A weight was on his chest. Purple-violet-indigo hair covered him like a blanket, and he could hear her crying. He could feel her shaking. He wrapped his arms around her, and as soon as he touched her, she moved herself upwards to bury her head in the crook of his neck. Her sobs intensified.

"I hate it, I hate it, I hate it, I hate it, I hate it, I hate it, I hate it—" she couldn't stop muttering, like she was stuck in a trance. He rubbed her back, trying to calm her however he could. He wasn't sure how much he could do, shaken as he was, but a Hero of Justice has to fight through their own pain to save others.

"We're alive." He stated simply, and her mumbling slowly quieted as he repeated it. "We're alive. It's not real. You're real, I'm real, and we're alive."

She nodded, but refused to move away. She clutched at him like a lifeboat. In a sense, she was doing the same for him.

"I hate it so much." She whimpered. "It hurts trying to channel the stream of mana, it hurts trying to listen, and it hurts trying to understand. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pull you in."

She grabbed his shirt tightly.

"I didn't know that you would be caught in it. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. _I'm sorry._"

"I forgive you." He said before she could continue to throw herself into the spiral of apologies and suffering. She nodded again and sighed, all of the tension finally leaving her body.

"I..." She took a while to speak again. "I know what we have to do... to deal with the corruption in the Grail."

"...Okay." He said. "But not now, please. I... need some time."

Nothing more needed to be said. She understood, and relaxed against him a little further, her arms wrapping even tighter around him. She needed to know that he wasn't going anywhere. He ran a hand through her hair. The sound of the waves formed yet another soothing blanket over them both. The exhaustion of the vision was getting to him, as his eyes were slowly shutting. He was almost ready to fall asleep right there.

Then his eyes shot open as he came to a sudden realization.

"Oh, crap," Shirou would have smacked himself if his hands weren't busy. "Illya's gotta be losing her mind right now."

* * *

A couple of things:

1\. With this chapter, I have begun to cross-post this story onto AO3. **This changes nothing for you****.** Chapters will not be delayed or compromised in some way. Personally, because AO3 provides authors with better tools for posting, I believe that the version posted on there is the superior one, **but I aim to make them as equal as possible.**

2\. Because I decided to cross-post the story, I rewrote the first chapter, Kiara 1. It looks a lot better than it used to. If you like, you can let me know your thoughts in your review to this chapter, along with a review of this chapter.

3\. Once again, **Aberron** was unavailable to be called upon for family and business reasons. But once again, I had wonderful friends to call upon. **TungstenCat** and **Exstarsis** both gave this chapter their criticisms and made it look a lot better than it used to. They also contributed greatly to the rewrite of Chapter 1. I cannot thank them enough. Once again, I get the opportunity to plug their works. Please go check out **Aberron's** _Living an Indoctrinated Dream, _**TungstenCat's** _Patterned in Rubies_, and **Extarsis's** _The Star and the Darkness_. All of those will be updated in the future. Look forward to what they make.

Today's ending theme is _O Virga ac Diadema_, composed by **Hildegard of Bingen**, sung by the choir **Voices of Ascension**.

Thanks for reading.


	19. Hassan of the Hundred Faces

_Tap..._

A footstep on tile floor, not a sound uncommon to Miongawa University Hospital. The footstep that followed it was awkwardly paced, out of time with the typical human gait. There was a long pause, enough to indicate the significant effort being expended to lift the leg and push it forward.

_Tap... tap... tap..._

A grunt.

"Master." A hand grabbed onto his right arm, near the shoulder, holding him in place. Shirou turned. Fatima, the thirty-second persona of his Servant, held onto him. "You are going to hurt yourself."

After Shirou's soul had been placed into this flawed puppet body, he had lost all fine and gross motor control. He had been an invalid for weeks, and it was both humbling and upsetting. He hated feeling like he wasn't in control of himself. Assassin, all of them, had taken up his chores alongside helping him get around the house and generally function. He retained cognitive language skills, but he had to relearn how to shape his lips around the words. It was pathetic, to say the least.

Another grunt. The tension that clenched his jaw tight would not let him say anything.

"Master," she said again, and her grip grew tighter. "Breathe."

Shirou inhaled, _one-two-three-four_, and held his breath, _one-two-three-four_. His exhale was eight beats, and by the end of it his jaw had loosened. He repeated the process, bringing some calm to the shaking in his legs. They continued to be unsteady, but Fatima helped him to the rubber seat that gripped too tightly onto his pants as he sat down in it, making it uncomfortable to adjust himself.

Shirou was used to being uncomfortable, but he was not used to being nervous.

"How long has it been since it started?" he mumbled.

"It's been thirteen hours," she responded calmly, her hand holding his forearm lightly now, a thumb brushing up against the plastic wristband. "This has been the seventh time in the last twenty minutes that you have asked this. You are unraveling again. Focus elsewhere."

"How am I supposed to do that?" he muttered, frustration dripping out from his lips. Her fingers clutched tightly once more, and he repeated the breathing cycle. The option had been given for him to remain inside during the operation, but they had both decided that it was better for him to wait outside, as his physical condition was unstable enough that they didn't want him to accidentally interfere.

"You can start by talking to me," she said after he had finished. "You are going to tell me, again, about the Fire."

Finally, his eyes went to hers. They were a dark blue, and they were a rock that he could grab onto in the storm that he found his heart tumbling through.

"Why?"

"Because," her expression did not change, but her eyes held a glint of playfulness now, "you need to be distracted, and a heavy weight can only be balanced by another heavy weight."

A few seconds of silence where neither moved. He sighed and leaned back.

"...twenty years ago, I died." The story began once again, a tale he had told many times in moments similar to these, moments that his Servant had kept him company through unflinchingly. "My mother threw me out of our house as it began to collapse all around us, and my ankle was sprained as I landed. But the house fell down very soon after I was out. The people who gave birth to me died."

He turned his gaze to a painting on the wall of a sailboat, lightly surfing over a medium-sized wave.

"After that, I walked for a long time." He drew in a deep breath to prepare himself. "And as I walked, pieces of me began to fall off like the concrete collapsing around me. I watched three businessmen be eviscerated by stray rebar, and left my laughter with them. I saw a teenage couple where the boy tried to hold up a stone wall to prevent he and his girlfriend from being crushed, and I left my hope with them as his strength failed and their bodies were turned to paste. I saw..."

He needed to take another breath, a shuddering breath, because his leg was getting jittery again and he could feel his anxiety rising. But he had to push through it, needed to level himself so that he could tell the story.

"I saw a mother burnt alive with her toddler in her arms, and I left my happiness with them. I burnt into my mind a thousand faces of the fallen, and all I could do was leave little bits of me behind to keep them company in the next life. I..."

Her hand clutched onto his. He squeezed.

"Eventually, it came to the point that I had nothing left to give. There is only so much a seven-year-old child owns, you know." His chuckle held no humor, nor did she laugh. The joke had been told too many times by now. "I let myself collapse into the rubble of a burnt-out house, and acknowledged that I was going to die. No, in that moment, I had already died. The person I was before then ceased to exist.

"The stars... I don't remember seeing them. I remember wishing that I could, I just wanted something beautiful to be the last thing I saw. And then..."

He sighed.

"I was saved."

They didn't say anything for a long time after that. She continued to hold his hand, and he churned over the memories in his mind.

"Do you regret taking up his dream?"

He looked up at her, somewhat surprised. She had never asked him this question before, not a single time when he had finished telling the story.

"I..." He needed to process the question. It was not something he could just react to.

_I... was saved... so I wanted to save others. But I don't save anyone anymore... no, that's not true._

"No," he finally said. "It's because of his dream that I was the person who made the decision to give up on them ten years ago. It's because of his dream that I am who I am today. I... may not ever save another person besides her, but that doesn't bother me. She is the only person I need to save."

Fatima wrapped her arm around his shoulders and held him.

"I have seen many supposedly 'good' men rise," she said quietly, "and watched as they fell into sin with ease, or had their sins exposed. Most people who claim to be good are pathetic imitations of that ideal, for there are very few without a flaw or weakness to prey upon and push them into darkness. But you..."

Her hand rubbed his back soothingly, a familiar sensation that he relaxed and slouched towards.

"You are a truly good man, Shirou Emiya." He looked at her, and her smile was soft but held so much kindness. "Even after you gave up on those flawed ideals, you are good. You are an ideal yourself, and I think that many men should strive to emulate you."

"I'm... not that great." He murmured, scratching at the ragged shadow of facial hair that was growing.

"You are," she affirmed. "You really are."

This time, a more comfortable silence settled upon them. Shirou was coming close to falling asleep, having been awake for an entire day now. When the double doors opened and the presiding midwife walked out, his anxiety made his heart beat faster than a machine gun.

"Emiya-san," the midwife's smile turned his anxiety into elation, "congratulations on—"

He was already hobbling to the door, one foot hastily dragged behind the other.

"Can I see them?" he said as he limped closer, though it came out as more of a demand than a request.

"Yes, though please keep it quiet." The midwife's upper lip twitched with a little humor. "Your wife has been through a lot, and though your daughter is awake, she is nursing. It would be best not to startle her with any loud surprises."

He nodded, and carefully pushed open the double doors, with Fatima right behind him. He didn't want her to steady him, though, because this was a journey that he needed to take on his own, even if it was a small one. His partially-functional limbs barely concerned him as he shambled urgently through the halls.

As he got close to a t-junction of hallways, a door on his right side opened. Rider stepped out, her image immaculate as it had always been, though her glasses were slightly askew and she looked somewhat tired. If she, a Servant, was actually showing it on her face, then she truly _was_ exhausted.

"Shirou," she almost sighed as she spoke his name, "hey."

"Is she—"

Before he could finish asking anything, Rider held her finger to her lips. He quieted down, and she opened the door again. He put one foot in and leaned on the doorframe.

The first thing he noticed was the hiss of a blood pressure cuff. He remembered the sound from when he woke up in the hospital after the Fire. The second was the smell of antiseptic, a light burn in his nostrils, but not strong enough to truly irritate. Another memory that he passed through as if it were a cloud. The third was his wife.

Her purple locks cascaded down from her head, somewhat messy and oily. Her face was haggard. There were bags under her eyes, and despite resting in a propped-up bed her entire posture screamed exhaustion. But there was no mistaking the sheer joy in her eyes, the serenity of her smile. His heart pounded in his chest as he looked at her, and then his gaze dropped to the bundle of blankets she was holding close to her breast. She was beautiful.

She looked up as he entered. Neither of them spoke verbally, an entire conversation spoken in a glance.

_Are-you-okay-I'm-fine-just-tired-look-at-her-she's-beautiful-are-you-happy-I'm-happy-I'm-so-happy-I've-never-been-this-happy-before-can-I-do-anything-for-you-get-you-some-water-or-a-snack-just-come-over-here-and-hold-her_

He nodded, and took a few stumbling steps forward. His emotions caught up to him, though, and he faltered, his foot failing to keep him upright. He hissed in air as he fell, but grabbed onto the bar on the end of the hospital bed before he could hit the ground. His arms shook with the effort of holding him, and quickly Fatima came to his side, joined by Rider moments later, and they both helped him stand up again.

They held one arm each as they helped situate him in a chair near the bed, and carried it soundlessly to be right next to Sakura. Her smile was just a little more strained, but it eased when he looked back up at her, exhaling in relief.

He stretched a hand out to touch her cheek, and she closed her eyes, pressing against it. The baby continued to make small suckling noises as she nursed her, but she was able to untense at his touch. They stayed like that for a few minutes. Eventually, Sakura tilted her head back up, and he drew his hand back, waiting for her.

Sakura gently pulled the baby away from her breast. The newborn began to whimper, and then as she held her further out, her cries grew louder. He was impressed with the set of lungs their child had been born with, but hoped that he could assure her that all was well. He carefully took the infant from Sakura's hands and brought her close to him, and as their eyes met she quieted down.

The baby was smaller than he expected, though not unhealthily so. Her skin seemed to glow pink, and her face was like a lump of clay that had been shaped by an amateur potter. Her hands were barely large enough to wrap around the tip of his pinky. There was a small tuft of blonde hair on her head. Her eyes were amber in color, and it was like looking into his own reflection. He could see his face in her eyes, deep pools of an earthy brown soaked in honey.

She was beautiful.

_Rain poured from the sky, soaking his jacket and making him cold despite having walked through a blaze for what felt like half a lifetime. The stars were not out tonight, or perhaps it was the smoke that did not even let his last sight be of the breathtaking tapestry he had gazed on many nights like this one. He was already dead, his body was just waiting to catch up._

_The crunch of rubble. Heavy breathing. Then, the stone that covered most of his face was lifted, and his eyes slowly focused on the black-haired man in front of him. His suit was completely unkempt, his hair was full of dust, and he was crying. He was crying, and yet, the smile on his face was something Shirou had never seen before. _

His heart stopped as her eyes locked with his. A silence paralyzed the room.

_The man took his hand in his and pressed it to his cheek. "Thank goodness." Shirou felt like his voice was a far distance away, and yet it remained completely comprehensible. "You're alive."_

Her mouth curved into a smile, and she gave the kind of gurgle that only an infant could make. He could breathe again. He sighed in relief and looked into his wife's eyes.

"Illya," he stated, "Illyasviel Emiya, for the aunt that she will never get to know."

Sakura nodded. They had discussed this many times before, and she had agreed to it were their firstborn to be a baby girl, but seeing her physically approve of it as he held their infant had a completely different meaning. He shuddered as he inhaled, his nose became clogged, and his vision filled with tears.

_The man continued to repeat those words over and over again, his tears landing in numbers comparable to the rain. What kind of happiness allowed this man to smile so joyously?_

He was crying. A realization slowly dawned on him.

_This... is what Dad felt. This is the happiness that he knew when he saved me._

His own face broke into a smile as his tears fell. He took Illya's hand around his finger and brought it to his cheek, lowering his head to help her better reach it. Her skin was smooth against the stubble of his facial hair.

_His face was coarse, unshaven, and yet he beamed with joy as he cried._

"Thank goodness," he whispered through his quiet sobs, "you're alive."

* * *

Rin found some magical process to make both Shirou and Sakura fertile again. Sakura is drawing upon the power of the Grail/Root and is able to support both Servants at the same time. I hope that answers the questions you were about to ask.

My deepest thanks to **TungstenCat** and in particular to **Exstarsis**, who as a mother drew upon her experience and knowledge deeply to help me write this. Without them, this would be a shadow of what it is. I am thankful every day to have friends like these.

The ending theme for this chapter is _Two Souls_ by **Philip Wesley****.**

Thank you for reading.


	20. Kiyohime

She did not know what material this shirt was made from. The Grail had told her much, but it was a mess of concepts and ideas that she could occasionally associate with a word that Anchin-sama spoke. Yet, it wasn't uncommon for her to just let something she didn't understand pass by. He would tell her if something was truly important. But whatever this fabric was... she wished that he had told her about it before. The texture was reminiscent of the silk robes that she used to be clothed in, except that where silk was cold, his shirt was warm. Part of that might have been that it was Anchin-sama's shirt, but the other part was definitely the mysterious fiber it had been woven from.

It felt very nice to her. It was just too bad that Anchin-sama's beautifully-textured shirt was marred by the large bloodstain splashed across both the front and the back.

Her thoughts grew dark as she remembered the other night. Anchin-sama had asked her to forgive Archer, because he was their ally and his attack on the graveyard was likely just an accident that her Master had been caught in the periphery of. But she knew what it meant. She saw it in that man's gray eyes—a burning hatred all too similar to the one that had once consumed her.

This man wanted to kill Anchin-sama.

She grit her teeth and clenched the shirt tightly, nearly tearing it to pieces as anger surged through her. This disgusting creature who had absolutely no right to even be within fifty feet of her Anchin-sama wanted to extinguish him from the face of this world. She had to put on a pretty smile around him because her Master asked, but deep down she knew that she would flay his skin and crucify him with his own skeleton before burning him alive if he _ever_ touched a single _hair_ on her Anchin-sama.

_I hate him I hate him I hate him I hate him I HATE HIM_

She let the fury run its course through her, imagining ever-darker ways of killing the man before she finally was able to release it. She sighed as her entire body untensed. The storm of rage gave way to the waters of peace, and she reacquainted herself with the calm dignity that she normally kept. Anchin-sama didn't deserve to see that side of her...

_Unless he lies._

She shook her head clear from those thoughts. They were like little ants that tried to dig tunnels through the bedrock of her trust. She believed in him, she trusted him, she _needed_ him like nothing else in her life. She had to take good care of him, so he would stay with her always. So she placed the blood-stained shirt in the washer and turned it on, having already loaded it with all of his other clothes. Now...

...she needed to refresh herself.

She ran to his bedroom, lifting the robes of her kimono to allow her to move faster. The screen door opened smoothly, indicative of how much care Anchin-sama took to make his house as clean and presentable as possible despite being its only resident. Kiyohime swooned as she entered his room, her eyes searching every corner for signs of his presence. He was not at home, so she was not expecting to see her Master in body, but it was his _spirit_ that she sought.

The room could have been generously called sparse, but reminiscent of a monk's cell was closer to the mark. No decorations hung on the walls, and the the only personal touch was a bookshelf with a few books on Japanese law and what was likely some shounen manga. Her heart warmed however when she saw there was enough space on the floor for a futon that could easily hold the two of them inside, an idea that made her hug herself in delight. Just the thought of being able to spend the night in her Anchin's arms...

The fantasy distracted her for a moment before she refocused herself. Long locks of turquoise hair fluttered behind her as she rushed to the closet, opening it as delicately as if it was the case of a priceless artifact. As she hoped, it was filled with Anchin-sama's clothes. There wasn't much that caught her eye apart from a dark pinstripe jacket, something which she quickly took. It was large; the coattails reached down to just above the backs of her knees, and the sleeves dangled long past her hands. But as she put it on, she couldn't help but smile brightly.

She could smell him in it.

It was faint, as it had been washed many times and the scent of detergent and fabric softener permeated every stitch, but it was there. He smelled like, of all things, iron. It was very peculiar to her, but who was she to question her Anchin-sama's natural body odor? It was just another quality of his that made him so attractive, just another item on the list of reasons that she loved him.

She wrapped herself in the jacket tightly, taking its scent in as well as the shadow of his anima left behind in it. It was so warm to her, like he was right there, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close. She needed this so badly. He was kind to her, but he wasn't very good at showing affection so far. She was hesitant to get a little more aggressive, as their relationship had only just started, but as the days passed and he continued to feel so far away... she was reconsidering that.

She softly closed the closet door and wrapped the jacket even tighter around her so that it was in as much contact with her as possible. She did up a few of the buttons so that it wouldn't fall off of her, and then walked out of his room, closing the door behind her. He would probably want something when he got home, right? Perhaps it was time for her to get started on dinner. He was definitely the better cook between them, but she could at least begin the preparations, no?

She twirled in happiness, the jacket lifting up like a skirt around her kimono. She was so happy to have been incarnated in this fashion, and she definitely knew what she was going to wish for on the Grail when they won. She could already see it: a beautiful honeymoon in a hot spring resort, a private outdoor bath reserved for the two of them, the moonlight reflecting in his amber eyes, the way that he would whisper her name—

She was fantasizing so strongly that she failed to notice how she had drifted off to the side. She unceremoniously hit the side of a door, accidentally slamming it open as she fell, holding her forehead in pain. Well, it didn't _really_ hurt, but the shock of the impact made her stop. She quickly checked that nothing on the jacket had torn, and sighed in relief when she found its condition preserved. Then she looked up and noticed the room she had stumbled into.

It was plain, even moreso than Anchin-sama's room. There was only a single object that decorated the room at the far end: a small shrine. It made her stop in her tracks. Anchin-sama never mentioned anything like this, and he never gave her the impression of a religious man, like—

_Anchin-sama—!_

She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to suppress the thunder that rang inside her mind. It took her a few moments, but she eventually got her train of thought got back on its proper rails. She forced herself to focus on the shrine, taking a few steps towards it. It definitely had all the features of a simple _butsudan_, something dedicated to family members that had passed away. There were only a few decorations: a few agarwood incense sticks in a small porcelain cup, a larger porcelain bowl filled with sand, a tiny empty cup with a matchbook next to it, a small gong, two candles the color of absinthe, and a framed picture on the upper shelf of a man she didn't recognize. The man had spiky black hair, and though his gray eyes weren't pointed in the direction of the camera, she could see that they did not hold much of a spark of life in them.

He might have been handsome had he been smiling, but unlike the brightness that radiated from Anchin-sama, everything about this man felt like a black hole. Something designed to drain its surroundings of life and joy. Her impression solidified; the world was better off without—

_No, no, no! He's important to Anchin-sama! This isn't right! He deserves all of the respect that I give to Anchin-sama..._

Kiyohime settled her fears and self-recriminations. She had been raised to be a proper woman, and she had been carefully trained in paying her respects at a shrine. She kneeled in front of the _butsudan_, taking care to properly arrange her kimono to not slip off as she sat, and bowed to the shrine.

There was a matchbook next to the incense sticks, from which she removed and struck a single match aflame. She lit the two candles, then blew the matchstick out and placed it in the small cup next to the incense. Taking two incense sticks out, she lit each one of them with the handles, then took both in one hand and summoned her fan to dampen the flame on the end to an ember. The faint spark emitted equally faint smoke, and its scent reminded her of an endless forest hanging on the edge of winter. But its light spoke to her of the light in Anchin-sama's eyes, and she let his imaginary gaze wash away the cold.

Placing both incense sticks in the larger pot of sand, she rang the gong with her knuckle, then started to bow repeatedly as she murmured the appropriate prayers for the deceased under her breath. It had been a long time since she had mourned or even paid respects to any of the deceased. She had a faint memory from her early childhood of a funeral held for a great-uncle, and not understanding why some of her family members were crying. The shrine they made for him in their home was where she had been taught to perform this ceremony, one of the only times her parents would ever touch her.

_Why doesn't Anchin-sama touch me why why why_

Her hands grew tight as they interlaced with each other, and she tensed with the thought. It hurt like spikes were growing out of her veins and arteries, but she had to let that go because if she held onto it she would turn ugly and Anchin-sama shouldn't have to see her in her ugly form because he's a good person he's so good so kind so warm _so warm_

_Breathe in. Breathe out._

She thought back to when he had taught her that, holding her hand gently in his larger one, and smiled. He was so patient with her. Every day she thanked the gods for having brought them together. A few more sets of prayers, one clap of her hands, and one last bow, and she was finished. She exhaled deeply, all the way from her core, letting the emotions run out from her. Then she opened her eyes to stare once more at the framed picture.

He was important to Anchin-sama somehow. She wondered how. She wondered why. She never questioned anything he told her because he did not seem like the kind of man to lie to her. He couldn't hide anything. He could barely give an excuse to his guardian (_cursed intrusive annoying fly leave us_) on why she had suddenly appeared in his life. But she wondered why he didn't tell her about this man.

A footstep, a thump right next to her. She turned, and he had dropped his bag and kneeled right next to her. Her eyes widened.

"A-Anchin-sama!" She had to smile for him, she should have been starting dinner already, she should have greeted him when he came in, no, no! "W-Welcome home! Did you want to take a bath while I—"

His serious expression made her stop, and she let the forced smile go. He went through his own process of lighting the incense sticks and paying his respects, and she was silent and restrained as he did so. He was elegant and graceful, his movements were precise, and his voice set her heart aflutter, but she kept her desires for him discreet.

He finished in a few minutes, and after he bowed one last time, he remained kneeling with his eyes closed for some silent moments. She almost reached out to touch him, just to feel his skin on hers, but again she resisted the urge. He would take her when he needed her, and she believed that he would need her in that way one day.

"Thank you," his voice was soft, but it felt like it filled the room. "I hadn't come here in a long time. I'm glad that you reminded me to visit the old man."

"Who was he, Anchin-sama?" She felt blind for the first time. This man that she had admired, that she had obsessed over, that she dreamed of... he was human too. He was so wonderful, and yet he had things that he regretted and cried over. She never asked, she never thought to, because Anchin was perfect! But...

"He was..." he started, "well, he was my adopted father. He was my hero. The man who taught me so much... I wouldn't be the person I am without him."

"Then he must have been a wonderful person," she replied, shuffling closer to him.

He snorted.

"Not really," he said disdainfully. "He couldn't cook to save his life, he wasn't here half of the year, and most of the time he just sat around reading. Nothing interesting either, nothing like a satisfying mystery novel, just books on philosophy. I look at them occasionally now, and they're very thick and he scribbled notes all over them. They..."

Anchin-sama stared even deeper at the framed picture of the man, then sighed.

"Well, anyway, he wasn't that great, but I admire him a lot for the person he tried to be. I got my dream from him."

"What do you dream of, Anchin-sama?" It felt like an obvious reply, like he had been asking for her to say that question, but he hadn't. He just sighed again.

"I want to become an Ally of Justice," the words fell out of his mouth like a derailing train. "I want to save everyone I can. I want to make everyone that I can smile."

The statement hung in the air, accompanied by a pregnant silence.

"That's beautiful," she finally said.

"Most people just laugh at it." It felt like he was trying to brush her compliment off, but she persisted.

"No, Anchin-sama, I mean it," she moved a little closer to him, almost tempted to touch his shoulder. "It's so... meaningful. To me, anyone who truly believes in something like that is a wonderful person. I..."

She wiped at her eyes. She hadn't realized she had started to tear up, but somehow that ideal touched her heart. She had never thought of anyone besides Anchin-sama as important, and she still believed in that. But the fact that he did, that he was such a good person...

"Thank you," he said, and put his hand over hers. His touch was electrifying, and she almost gasped at it, but she had to savor it for every second that she could. His skin reminded her of the feeling of her lone silk scarf, a treasure she had been gifted as a young girl. It was warm and comforting and, though she could smell iron, she felt safe.

When he frowned, though, an icy terror leapt through her. His hand moved from hers to brush the sleeve of his jacket. He asked her, "Are you cold? Should I take you out shopping for more clothes? I'm sorry, I never thought about how you must feel alone all day here."

Her sense of his warmth returned, redoubled. He was so absolutely perfect.

_I love you, Anchin-sama.  
_

* * *

I've been thinking about writing her for a while, like always trying to dig through the shallow pond of a person that Nasu, TYPE-MOON, and DelightWorks gives us to find the reservoir of personality hidden beneath. She's gonna get an arc, and one thing I will spoil for you is that she is not going to have a romantic relationship with Shirou. It's going to be a lot more wholesome. This will be one of the less dark arcs.

I accidentally made a Discord fanserver. The invite code is GkXXAYE. As this website doesn't allow links, I assume you know what to do with that.

Once more, my deepest thanks goes out to **Aberron**, **TungstenCat**, and **Exstarsis**. Have I plugged them enough by now? No? Got it. Abe writes a wonderful Mass Effect story and is actually working on a Fate/stay night fanfiction right now. **TungstenCat** and **Exstarsis **both recently published more new works, including (and I'm deeply and extremely honored by this), fanfiction of my Kiara arc. They each wrote a smutfic around her, and you can actually read them in a story order. Start with **TungstenCat**'s _A Long Night, Short Lived_, and finish with **Exstarsis**'s _The Mermaid_. They are excellent, and the fact that they haven't gotten enough attention before I plugged them is sad. Go check them out.

The ending theme for this chapter is _Houkou Kaiki_ by **Morrigan**.

Thanks for reading.


	21. Cú Chulainn 2

The wooden grain of the kotatsu held no answers for him. He was desperate for something, anything. But mystery continued to fog his mind. Shirou was exhausted, having barely slept after the battle with Caster last night, but he couldn't stop worrying. Everything that could have gone wrong had gone wrong, and even Lancer hadn't worn his normal carefree smile when they got home. He hadn't seen the Servant since going to bed and trying to sleep, and now it was already getting bright outside. Normally by this time he would have already been training, if not cooking after having washed up, but he felt terrible.

He never moped like this before. It was so abnormal to him, but for the first time in his life he felt like he _failed_ to be a hero.

_Can I even... save them?_

The door to the living room slammed open, and Lancer walked in holding... something that resembled a spear in a rough way, made out of a dark purple stone.

"Oi, boyo," he spoke calmly, "you ready to go?"

"Go...?"

"To rescue your girlfriend and the cute blonde girl," Lancer said as if it was obvious, raising an eyebrow. "You not interested?"

"Wha—yes! Of course I am!" Shirou pushed away from the kotatsu and jumped to his feet, then swayed unsteadily as the blood tried to rush up to his head. He hasn't even realized he had been sitting for so long. "But... how are we going to do that? They have two Servants..."

Lancer smiled a little.

"So you're saying you don't think I can beat them both with my hands tied behind my back?" he teased.

"I-I mean..."

The Servant waved a hand in dismissal.

"Alright, let's get real here," he came closer, leaning on the stone spear. "That bastard Archer is a piece of shit, but he and Caster combined could take me down after a long fight. You gotta plan to fix this?"

Shirou frowned.

"I..." He sighed. "No. All I can think of is... I don't know, I just want to save them already!"

The blue-clad spearman laughed.

"Aw, man, I knew there's a reason we get along," he clapped Shirou on the shoulder. "I'm quite familiar with guys like you, being one myself. We're the type to run in, kick the door down, hit the problem right from the front. Very simple people, ya know? But that ain't gonna work here. We'd make a valiant, uh, 'Charge of the Light Brigade', I think it's called? Ultimately, we'd die, and the two girlies would die soon after us."

"Do you have something in mind?" Shirou asked, staring at the man's face, which slowly grew into a smirk.

"Oh yeah, I got an idea..."

**[Saga]**

Archer sat on a rafter, calmly watching his ex-Master die. Caster was using the magic of the young prodigy along with the channel of the Servant that was the younger Artoria Pendragon (and boy, wasn't _that_ a sight to see for the first time) to ignite some kind of ritual that would let her tap directly into the Greater Grail. She had explained to him that she was looking to win the War without having to dirty her hands further with more combat, and promised that his betrayal would not go unrewarded.

_Heh. As if the Witch of Betrayal would actually grant clemency to a traitor._

No, he knew exactly how this relationship would end, which is why she would die before the ritual were to finish. Rin wouldn't be allowed to die, though she may lose a few circuits. Saber... well, she wouldn't be able to sustain herself for very long without a Master. But he had steeled his heart by now. Caster would kill half of Fuyuki's population in the process of activating the Grail—not something he could allow.

"Damn you, Archer..." Rin said through a teary-eyed glare. "How could you...?"

She was normally quiet, but sometimes she would give him that look. In some part of him that he thought had been locked away and covered with dirt a long time ago, it actually hurt. But it was a very small part, and as a Hero of Justice-turned-Counter Guardian he had long since thrown away his empathy.

"It's just what has to happen, Rin," he replied from his high seat. "You know that a magus always walks with death. There are consequences to the life you've lived up until now."

"This isn't about my decisions or whatever!" she yelled. "I thought I could _trust_ you!"

He shrugged.

"You should have known better," he easily countered. "But I suppose I can't really fault you for that, being so young and having to take care of yourself for so long. Kids are always full of openings."

Perhaps she would be able to learn from this experience. She definitely would not be as good of a magus as she used to be, but she would have a greater understanding of what it meant to be one. She was still the genius she had always been, she could overcome anything. That was the Rin Tohsaka he had known.

"You..." Her tone grew ever-more enraged. "_You...!_"

"I'm surprised you even made it this long," he continued. "You must have had someone watching over you. The priest, right? He was your guardian?" He made a show of looking around the hall. "Yes, with a place like this, I'm surprised you actually relied on him at all."

Rin only screamed wordlessly. He would have responded, but then Caster tapped into their mental link.

'_The boy is approaching on his own... how curious.'_

Somehow, it did not surprise him that he was that stupid. The only thing that was strange was that Lancer had not accompanied him. It was likely there was some kind of trick involved, but those two being who they were, he did not expect much.

_I'll take care of him._

All that was returned was an affirmative pulse. He let himself fall from the rafter, landing on a church bench and crunching it. He turned to walk outside, continuing to ignore Rin's ranting, and his eyes locked with the teacher's.

He didn't quite remember the man that Caster addressed as "Souichirou-kun", but apparently he was a teacher at the school that he had attended. It was intriguing that he had this kind of hidden side to him, but not of much concern. He would probably die along with Caster, a necessary casualty.

Archer opened the doors, not a single word exchanged between them, and waited for the boy to arrive. It did not take long. The stupid idiot really was completely alone, and all he had as a weapon was a long, rusty pipe.

_This is honestly pathetic. I'm doing him a favor here. _

He traced a generic sword, as a Noble Phantasm would be overkill, and started an easy gait to his younger self.

"Oh?" he called out. "Are you so arrogant that you don't even need your Servant to save Rin?"

The boy's expression only hardened, his grip on the pipe tightening. Archer couldn't help but shake his head. What did he even think would happen?

He took one more step, then threw himself forward faster than the idiot deserved. The blade was drawn back, ready to make his death a quick one. He would end him in the first strike and be done with this farce. Perhaps he would be lucky enough to cease to exist instantly. He had already set up a contingency plan if he wasn't around to stop Caster from finishing the ritual, so there was no issue with protecting any innocents. It was only him and the sweet embrace of death.

Of course, that was where things went wrong.

As he got within two meters of his younger self, the boy's hard expression cracked and a bloodthirsty smile broke through. The pipe came up much faster than a human should be able to react, and his traced blade _shattered_ as the two objects impacted.

_What the f—_

It impacted his side and somehow cut through his armor, drawing blood as it swept way. He leapt away from the boy, the Married Blades forming in his hands, but watched as the kid used the pipe to flick droplets of blood in four directions around them.

"_Alguz_," the boy's voice was deepening, and as he spoke he grew taller, his disguise melting away to reveal a grinning blue spearman, "_Nauthiz_, _Ansuz_, _Inguz_. Neither of us will walk away from here until the other dies. How lucky are you feeling, bastard?"

He would have swore had Lancer not been right in front of him. The spearman's _Protection from Arrows_ prevented him from even trying to engage him from a distance, which he would have vastly preferred, and even worse was the small space he had locked them into.

"I'm impressed," he replied without letting any of his worries show on his face, "this is quite the plan for a pair of fools to put into play." As he spoke, from a distance away, the boy was already fast approaching. He attempted to move to the side to stand in his path, but an invisible wall stopped him from moving far enough to do so. Strapped on the boy's back was the rough outline of a stone spear, and as he ran past, Archer received a very angry glare from his younger self.

"Oi, kid," Lancer barked, "keep it cool. I'll be there soon."

"Got it," the boy said, running faster only to bash the doors open with his shoulder.

_Kh, he'll never learn the meaning of 'subtle'._

He wasn't able to ponder his hatred for the fool any longer, as his instincts warned him of the incoming strike. He let himself fall to the ground to avoid a stab from the red spear, using one of the married blades to push it aside.

"C'mon, bastard," Lancer said as he swung his spear downwards to slash at him, "don't just fall down and die. Make this a good fight."

Archer rolled to the side and sprung up, blocking another hit. He could already feel Kanshou cracking. They were easy to trace, but like the fight they had outside the boy's home on the third night, there was no way the inferior copies of the Married Blades would stand up to a genuine Noble Phantasm. Perhaps were he able to attack from a distance, he'd have more of a chance, but right now it felt like he would have to deploy his Reality Marble to find a path to victory... and that would tip Caster off.

_Damn it, dog. You trapped me better than you could have ever known._

**[Saga]**

"So you know that the bastard is going to expect you to walk right up to the doors and start trying to smack at him. He knows you know, and so on." Lancer motioned with his hands.

"But we're not doing that." Shirou attempted to guess, causing Lancer to smile.

"Actually, yeah. They're gonna be expecting you to just walk through that door, which is why it will be _you_ walking through that door."

"_I am?_" Shirou came close to shouting.

The spearman's grin grew further. "Of course, that you is actually going to be me in disguise."

"Wait, what?" Shirou took a step back. "You can do that?"

Lancer chuckled. "Yeah, my teacher was..." He scratched at his cheek. "She was kind of amazing. She taught me a lot, and I sort of improvised from there with the help of some friends."

"How is that kind of magecraft possible, though?" His Servant flicked him on the forehead, and he let out a cry of pain in response.

"Ulster druids were adept at communing with nature, and in particular they had a strong relationship with the dryads," he explained. "The dryads taught them some of their secrets, one of which was how to appear as something that you are not. There are a few different types of this, but because we've got a bit of trust, you don't mind if I get a couple drops of your blood, right?"

Shirou shook his head.

"Great, okay. So I'm gonna walk up to that bastard looking like you and capture him in an _Ath nGabla_ geas."

"A w—"

"Basically, I'm gonna put me and him in an invisible box. Neither of us are gonna be able to leave it until one of us dies, so that means that you should be able to walk on in. Of course, Caster and her absolute badass of a Master are still going to be waiting to kick your ass—"

"Hey!"

"—so we've gotta figure out a way to prevent you from becoming a bloodstain instantly," Lancer finished and put the stone spear on the table. "That's where this baby comes in."

Shirou looked at it. It shone in the light of the incandescent bulbs in his living room, and on the dark stone he could see some engraved symbols on it.

"You made me a spear?" He realized. The spearman raised an eyebrow at him.

"One of the most magical media for druids was obsidian. You couldn't find it in many places, but it held runes way longer than anything else, and it even strengthened and enhanced their intention. I engraved a pseudo-_Ath nGabla_ on it that you can use as well as some general Reinforcement runes. All you need to do is draw her Master's blood and tap the back end on the four corners of the box you want to make. This is not gonna work if you try to trap Caster inside, because she's a mage from the Age of the Gods and could easily break out, but the geass works by binding your souls together. My guess is that she's going to be busy doing whatever the hell she is planning in the church and that she'll leave her boy toy to take care of you."

Once again, he smirked, his pointed teeth emphasizing his feral look.

"You're gonna show her why that's a bad idea," he clapped Shirou on the back once again. "I'll mop up Archer as quickly as I can. Once I get in there, I'll distract Caster long enough for you to make a killing blow without worrying about her. Then, you're gonna break the spear on whatever the hell she's got the two ladies captured in. When it shatters, it's gonna release a curse that dispels all magecraft around it, and that should get them both freed. Then it'll be four versus one, and I'm definitely gonna have kicked her ass around enough for it to be an easy fight."

Shirou smiled. Maybe they actually had a chance.

**[Saga]**

Shirou rammed open the door with his shoulder and stumbled in. Despite all the training Lancer had put him through, he could still be far too clumsy for his own good. This time, though, it was actually to his benefit, as his stumble put his head underneath the punch that Kuzuki-sensei had thrown at it. He wasted no time in ripping the obsidian spear from its strap, using the motion to slash at his teacher's leg and drawing a shallow cut. Not quite the cut to the tendon behind the knee he'd been hoping for, but it would work.

Red liquid shined on the end. _Good, now—_

The teacher didn't let the wound affect him whatsoever, and he closed in on Shirou once more, two blows aiming for his sternum and his knee. Instinct and muscle memory that he had never known took over for him, and he twisted the shaft to block both blows. The impact resonated in his bones, and he quickly rolled away and slapped the back end onto two mahogany pews on both of his sides.

_Two corners—!_

He knew what he had to do, but the space wasn't willing to work with him. His knee banged on the side of a pew as he dodged, and his flinch of pain left him open to a vicious blow to his ribs. But fortune, for once, smiled on him because the impact sent him past Kuzuki-sensei... in a perfect position to make the second pair of corners.

His eyes met Kuzuki-sensei's once more. His gaze was as cold as ever, and Shirou couldn't help but think of the life in Lancer's eyes every time they sparred, the excitement that he felt just from engaging in combat with someone else. Despite the violence associated with it, he felt that Lancer's joy was so much purer than the lack of emotion in Kuzuki-sensei's. His Servant was, at heart, a good person.

"You have laid out an interesting trap, Emiya-san," the teacher spoke calmly. "Are you a skilled enough hunter to fully spring it?"

Shirou gripped the spear tighter and let the false memories of Lancer's training flow through him.

"I don't believe in questioning myself after I make my decisions," he replied, "so I can't answer that, Kuzuki-sensei."

The man nodded, somehow conveying the slightest increase in respect, and lunged forward, one fist outstretched. Shirou took the hit with the shaft of the spear and swiped at his torso, missing by mere centimeters. Kuzuki-sensei locked the spear inside his right elbow and drove his left palm towards Shirou's sternum, which made Shirou hiss as he tried to dodge. He mostly succeeded, taking a glancing hit to his shoulder, but was able to land a counter blow on Kuzuki-sensei with blunt end of the spear, driving him back several paces.

A screech rang out in the church hall as Shirou dragged the blade end of the stone spear over the floor, sliding towards his teacher with a kick ready to be thrown out from the floor. Though the friction burnt, determination to find victory set into his bones, and he prepared himself to throw himself even harder into the fight.

_Just hold on, Rin, Saber... I'm coming to save you._

**[Saga]**

_This is pathetic._

Cú would have sighed in disappointment were he not mid-swing, his spear bashing Archer into the runic barrier. Despite his desire, not only was his opponent unable to match him to make for an even fight (though he admitted an even fight would probably involve the bowman having the space to attack from a farther range, not that it would help him much), but he found that his passion for the battle was lacking. In fact, every time he met Archer's eyes, they were void of anything at all. He would have called him resigned to death had it not been clear that he _was_ trying.

Archer spit out blood as he fell to the ground, but rolled to the side to avoid the follow-up swipe and ducked under a kick. What he did have to his advantage was his ability to create an innumerable number of weapons. For the most part he would create a pair of falchions, but occasionally he would try to counter him with an unexpected longsword or an axe. The weapons, though beautiful things that were likely on the level of Mystic Codes if not genuine Noble Phantasms, did not seem to hold enough Mystery to stand up to Gáe Bolg, and so he shattered them over...

_Crack!_

...and over...

"Kuh!"

...and over again. The red-clad man got up once again, but Cú did not feel like he was about to face a desperate last stand. It was just an enemy who couldn't give up... not for a purpose, not even for the fight, but simply because of the inertia of his fate.

"You're fucking disgusting," he almost spat. The Archer chuckled.

"Are you much better yourself, Hound of Chulainn?" An insufferable smirk spread, but his eyes still held nothing.

"Killing you is going to be more of a mercy than a punishment," he muttered, though the Servant's sharp ears picked up on it nonetheless.

"Heh." Archer's smirked dipped low from the heights of smugness to melancholy. "Not a mercy you could grant me." The man flexed his fingers and sighed.

"Hell if I care. The only thing that I'm disappointed about is that the kid isn't gonna get to do this himself," Cú said as he crouched low, taking his spear in one hand and drawing it back, readying his blow.

"I'm not going to make this easy for you." He almost laughed at the arrogance of Archer's statement, but he was not in a laughing mood anymore.

"Shoulda said that before I kicked your ass over the Mournes," he replied, "but sure, show me your last stand."

The edge of his spear caught on fire, red flames languidly licking at his shoulder.

"_I am the bone of my sword._"

In his hands...

"_You bastard,_" Cú snarled. "You absolute fucking _bastard of a whore and an inbred!_"

That was his best friend's sword, that was _Fergus's sword_. But as if that wasn't insulting enough, it was a twisted and broken mockery of the original blade, more akin to a rapier than the full spiral it had created once before.

"_My core is twisted in madness,_" Archer pulled the sword back, readying for a piercing blow.

"_Gaè..._" He readied his own Noble Phantasm, charging it even further in his rage over his best friend's memory being spat upon in this way.

"_Caladb—_"

"_BOLG!_"

**[Saga]**

Shirou flinched back as yet another near miss sent air whistling past his face, his arms moving with the instincts drawn from his weapon, snapping the spear up to bat his opponent aside. Kuzuki-sensei twisted and stepped back, taking the blow on his arm, then surged inside of Shirou's guard to deliver three rapid punches at his chest.

He managed to block the first two with twists of his weapon, but took the third straight to his ribcage. Air exploded out of him in a violent cough as he retreated several paces, quick jabs of the spear giving him a little bit of space to recover in.

His teacher regarded him without any real emotion, though his flat voice somehow conveyed a kind of annoyed respect. "Your reinforcement is impressive. I should have killed you three times by now."

Anything he would have said in reply was interrupted when the temple experienced further desecration; the wooden entrance exploded from a single kick from Lancer, and the servant's mere presence being enough to answer who had won the fight outside. Shirou couldn't have been happier to see his Servant, though his distraction cost him in the form of another kick at his kneecap. If not for the Reinforcement he was constantly doing on himself, enhanced by the runes in his spear, his entire skeleton would have been shattered three times over by now.

"Oi, boyo, finish it up already!" Lancer called out as he casually walked around the pews. "We've got other shite to worry about!"

"Yeah, yeah, I know!" Shirou replied, not taking his eyes off of his teacher this time. He needed to end this now. He placed himself in a crouch and aimed his spear downwards, one hand at the blunt and and the other pointing down the blade. His sensei was too cold to react in any way, he simply got in yet another defensive posture. But Shirou felt what he was about to do deep inside his soul; the next attack was not something that could be blocked or parried.

He may be a human, definitely not a Heroic Spirit, but he was extremely good at imitation.

The spear did not light aflame like his Servant's would, but it thrummed in his hands as he channeled his mana into it. Shirou would not know it, but his expression turned vulpine in that moment as he focused all of his attention on what he was about to do.

"_Gáe_..." he muttered, his tunnel vision increasing by the second. His muscles flexed and unflexed rapidly, and his crouch tensed. Kuzuki-sensei did not flinch in any way, he simply stood steadfast as a statue. He was ready.

"_Bolg!_"

Shirou feinted a rapid thrust forward, but instead jumped in the air and spun around in a full circle to add rotational momentum, and as he reached the apex of his spin, he put his full power into his throw. He let go of the spear, all of the strength and speed he could put into it pushing it forward, and watched as Kuzuki-sensei raised his hands in what he thought would be another parry of the spear.

Shirou did not grin, but inside he felt a satisfaction more characteristic of Lancer than himself as the spear, filled with his mana to the bursting point, carved through Kuzuki-sensei's hands and pierced straight through his heart. It easily exited out the other side, viscera flung out in its wake, on a path towards the wall of swords that imprisoned Tohsaka and Saber.

Kuzuki-sensei blinked, his fingers shakily touching the hole in his chest, and then coughed out a large volume of blood.

Shirou was nearly deafened by one of the most excruciating screams he had ever heard as Caster faded into view, catching Kuzuki-sensei before he could fall.

The flung spear crashed into the wall of swords and exploded without any fanfare. The explosion was not very large, but in its small space it was powerful enough to blow a wide gap for the two girls to walk out, which they did. Shirou spotted Tohsaka taking Saber's hand and speaking very quickly to her, but he tore his eyes back to Caster.

She was still the most dangerous person in the room, even as he was joined by Lancer at his side. He didn't have a weapon to wield against her now, which made him feel naked and uncomfortable, but if Tohsaka was contracting with Saber right now then the two Knights would definitely be able to overpower Caster.

Her sobs, sounds that plucked hard at Shirou's heartstrings, echoed in the high roof of the church. She was clearly speaking to her Master in his last moments, but that wasn't as audible to him. It hurt him to have to hurt a woman, but...

_She was killing innocent people. She was going to kill Rin and Saber._

Lancer slowly made his way over to her. He clearly wasn't happy about having to kill her either.

"You..." Finally, Caster spoke up. She turned, and Shirou was frozen in place as her gaze nailed him to the floor. "Boy... do you think you've done justice tonight?"

"Y-yes!" He tried to reply emphatically, but his fear response was getting the best of him. Her navy blue eyes were shining with tears, but her expression was pure rage.

"You disgust me," she said, and then turned to look at Lancer. "Kill me, you most cruel of heroes. With those hands, you glorify yourself as a savior of innocent lives. But when the cold light of the morning illuminates you, all you will find is the tears and broken hearts you have left in your wake."

"One man's hero is the villain of another saga," Lancer replied with unusual softness. "We can't do anything but fulfill the roles we have."

His spear went straight through her chest, but the only sign of injury she gave was a cough of blood. Droplets carved down the indents of her face, slowly falling to the floor.

"Then I will pray for you, valiant heroes..." she spoke as loud as she could, though Shirou could hear how her lungs were slowly filling with blood. "I will pray that the gods will ruin your lives... as you have ruined mine..."

She fell to her side, barely able to hold herself up with her right arm. She spit blood onto the floor. Her body began to disintegrate into golden ashes.

"Hah..." Her single laugh was devoid of any happiness. "Even to the end, my life was nothing but a tragedy."

Tears joined her blood. As the hand that held her up faded from existence, she completely fell over, her eyes digging right into Shirou's.

"Damn you..." she whispered, "damn you all to Hades."

Caster died.

Shirou couldn't move. He was still paralyzed from her words. As the sound of her last breath echoed, he fell to his knees, clutching his arms around himself. He was shaking. He couldn't stop shaking. Violent shivers were crawling up and down his spine and forcing air out. He couldn't breathe.

"Kid."

He looked up, and Lancer's red eyes were muted and calm as he looked down at him. There was very little joy to be found in his face.

"It..." Shirou mumbled, "It hurts... I thought I would feel good for saving them... but it hurts..."

Lancer sighed, and kneeled on the floor next to him.

"Sometimes to save someone, especially the people you care about, you have to hurt someone else," he spoke, and his gaze was far away. "Even worse... there are times that you'll just make a mistake and hurt the ones you love. You can't do anything but pray for forgiveness from the gods, as lives are both meaningful and meaningless."

There was a moment of silence between them, and then Lancer clapped him on the shoulder.

"Come on," he said quietly. "Let's go talk to your girlfriend."

* * *

Told you I'd give him the spotlight to be his badass "Irish Hercules" self. Perhaps it didn't end on as heroic of a note as I originally intended it to, but such is the nature of stories.

Thanks to my crack team of **Aberron**, **TungstenCat**, and **Exstarsis** as always for providing extremely useful feedback. This chapter would once again not be possible without them. They were joined temporarily by **Katkiller V**, who rewrote my fight scenes to not suck and even wrote some original stuff to insert of his own. This man is a champion.

You should check out all of the following:

**Aberron**'s _Living an Indoctrinated Dream_.

**TungstenCat**'s _Drunk Kaleidoscope_.

**Exstarsis**'s _Fate/Stay Mama_.

**Katkiller V**'s _The Dream Fades Before the Dawn_.

**KentaKazami**'s _Authority of the Mom_.

**AshenDream**'s _And Hell Followed With Them_.

Apart from **AshenDream**'s incredible work that I seek to emulate in multiple senses, I have worked in some capacity on all of these, but I also recommend them because I consider them pieces of fiction to be worth reading.

Your ending theme is _The Best is Yet to Come_ by **Aoife Ní Fhearraigh**.

Thanks for reading.


	22. First Hassan

Shirou vomited.

The stone floor was disgusting underneath him, covered in a sickly-green moss that was now splattered with the colors of his bile and breakfast. The scent of formaldehyde, the absence of light, even this oppressive hum that wouldn't stop forcing his entire skeleton to shake (_or was that the sense of guilty nausea because you left them behind you let them die to save yourself_) tried to obscure reality. But they couldn't keep up the illusion for long.

The coffins-that-were-not-coffins spoke the truth, a song of suffering that pierced through every misty veil and iron wall that protected his mind from psychological incursions like these. A truth ten years old. A truth that laughed at him as he drowned in his own self-loathing.

_I should have known I should have known I should have known I should have known_

A decayed arm whose color was more akin to burnt parchment than skin hung off of one of the stone slabs, almost reaching out for him. A face without eyes and teeth whose features were far from living and yet still breathed stared at him, blaming, begging, burning his soul with its gaze.

Accusing him of abandonment.

He faced the floor again, staring at his sick, silently pleading guilty to the judgement of the dead.

"**Contractor."**

Assassin's voice was the oncoming rumble of an earthquake, making him shake even more as he cried into the puddle of his fluids.

"W-what...?" His voice came out as pathetic as he felt, as he should feel.

"**The false reverend hath perished."** Though without real tone, Shirou somehow felt as if the armored figure was trying to comfort him with that statement.

"G-good..." He could feel a distant satisfaction, disconnected from his desire to shove rail spikes through his eardrums to stop the noise, stop the pain, stop every second of this experience. He coughed twice and a mixture of phlegm and blood fell from his lips. If he looked closely it looked like tiny pieces of the bodies in the coffins, and now he was desecrating them further by forcing them to touch his vomit.

"**If thou art concerned upon the fate of these fallen,"** the voice of judgement could not absolve, only attempt to assuage, "**then I shall make sure their passing is without suffering."**

All he could do was nod in response.

He did not look up when the black armored boots passed by his head.

He did not look up at the whispered words of prayer in a language he had no familiarity with.

He did not look up at the gasps, or the murmured gratitudes, or the sound of bones coming apart.

He did not look up as the room became filled with the dead.

He did not look up, all he could do was stare at the stone floor and at his dried vomit and at the moss and the stains and the dust and the memories of a decade of unliving. He wondered how they passed the time; did they count all thirty-six hundred seconds in every hour of the day? How many millions of seconds had they reached?

How many millions of seconds had he enjoyed at their expense?

"**It is done."**

Shirou looked up.

His Servant towered over him, and would have even had he not been kneeling on the floor. His eyes, blue flames that intensified whenever he was angry and softened whenever he attempted to comfort, conveyed nothing but the firm bedrock of his soul.

"Thank you," he said, looking down again. He prepared to push himself upright again, but before he could do so, an armored hand wrapped around his upper arm and, with surprising gentleness, pulled him up to stand on his feet. It continued to support him as he found his balance.

He looked up at his Servant, surprised that the harsh figure he cut could do something so tender.

"Assassin?"

"**Thou art but fragments of a stone shattered by waves, Contractor,"** he said with a softer voice than Shirou had ever heard him speak with. "**To blame thyself for the mistakes of thy progenitor is to take sins thou hath not earned."**

"I..." He clenched a single fist, the arm that wasn't held tensing. "I'm supposed to be... a good person. How can I call myself a hero if I failed to save these people right in front of me?"

"**Thou doth not see their deaths as a form of rescue?"** The question almost came across as rhetorical in his voice, but Shirou understood it as genuine.

"N-no... I mean... I should have been here before..."

"**Failure would be all thou would find."**

Shirou choked on those words.

"**These were souls slaven to eternal torture, and thou would be unable to do anything but grant the boon of a mercy killing."**

"But they..." he started. "They were kids just like me... any one of them could have been picked up by the old man... I was supposed to be their hero."

"**Thou hast yet to grow,"** the baritone voice replied. "**Heroism doth not emerge from the womb alongside thee."**

"I still..." He sniffed, wiping at his eyes with his wrist. "I still should have saved them. I should've been better, I should've... I should've..."

"**How canst thou believe in thyself so greatly?"** Assassin's voice was warm, like the hearth in Raiga's living room that he would sit around on chilly winter evenings. "**Thy will is powerful, but thy strength cannot match. Would it please thee to sacrifice thyself for nothing?"**

"I... I..." He tried to find the vocabulary to reply, and came up short. "I have to..."

"**Thou must only focus thy will on bringing thy abilities to match. Perhaps thou will find, in reaching that apex, that thy life is worth more than the sum of the lives thou hath saved."**

Finally, after a few moments of silence, he nodded, and Assassin's hand let him go, only to rest on his shoulder. The armored pieces were cold and hard, and yet somehow it helped him feel warm again inside.

"...thank you," he said quietly. The grip tightened slightly in acknowledgement, and then let him go. He faded into his spirit form quietly, but Shirou was not left feeling alone. He took a few shaky breaths and stood to his full height, trying to imitate the steel stature of his Servant. He couldn't quite get there. He didn't have the strength of spirit, and he still felt sickened by himself. But he did not let himself fall apart again.

A few slow steps brought him to the staircase. Before he began ascending, he looked behind him one last time at the physical embodiment of his survivor's guilt.

"...I hope that it's warm wherever you are," he spoke softly to the chamber. The bodies did not reply. He turned forward again and climbed up the steps, the echo of his footsteps making loud clacks that reverberated in the small staircase.

**[Saga]**

She thought she had known this cold. The eternal Germanic winter of the Einzberns was the kind that you either survived and thrived in, left harder than the fellow beside you who froze and died in ignomy, or you joined that fellow and learned to enjoy sleeping in a blanket of dirt and shame. She was thrown into it far too often, always some kind of test to excuse Grandfather and the others from their guilt (if they could even feel that). She had learned to melt snow into potable water, how to detect and murder hibernating families of animals for food, how to survive without even clothes on your back.

In those darkest moments, when she was all alone in the hollow of a dead oak, she tightly held onto the memory of her mother's arms, the lullabies she would sing for her. She took the strings of empathy and joy that her fa- Kirit- _that man_ had taught her and plucked them for comfort in those dark times, until each of them snapped. One by one, the memories of that time had begun to fade from color into sepia, from sepia into monochrome, and from monochrome into static.

And then they were all gone, and all she had left was the unfeeling hand and the spiteful words of Grandfather. Grandfather, whose every waking moment was spent either hating _that man_ for betraying them (a feeling she eventually began to empathize with, though for different reasons), or telling her that she wasn't worthy of Justeaze's dream but that a defective product was better than nothing at all.

When she arrived in Japan, it was with a heart of steel, the only little fire inside being that which wished to consume the boy that had occupied _that man's_ attention for ten years. What made this child so much more important than her, his own _flesh and blood?_

Illya sighed, the frigid air clouding in front of her. She could feel Berserker nearby, the monstrous monolith of a man (if even that) being the only comfort she had known since _that man_ and Mother had left her. He huffed with a kind of anxiety that he only felt because of her own internal turmoil.

She did not know if she wanted to kill Shirou Emiya anymore. She certainly thought she had wanted to; when she first saw him walking alone on that night the small fire ignited into a blaze, and she wanted to see him burn in it. When he was nearly killed on that first night, in this very place no less, she had seen his mettle and found him lacking, and thought it to be a mercy if she were to kill him later on.

But then she got to see him one more time, and he still treated her with a tender care that pulled out of static the touch of her father, a smile on his face as he told her a bedtime story. It didn't matter to him that they were enemies, that she had tried to kill him. All he saw was someone who needed to be helped, and he acted.

She did not get to see him again, and now she was left with the churn of a boiling emotional broth.

_What should I do, Berserker?_

There was no answer, as coherency was not in his capabilities. But a certain kind of affection was sent back, something like the combination of a dog's unconditional love and an older brother's care for his little sister. She smiled even as she shivered once again. He really was the best Servant she could have gotten.

There was no sound that indicated it, but in the distance she could see the church doors slowly opening. All of the chaos of the past few minutes was pushed aside. She tensed and readied herself to see the only target of her vengeance left. The death of Shirou Emiya was not a duty that was tasked to her by Grandfather, but it was a pleasure that a part of her wished to relish in.

Instead of a target, she saw a broken soul.

His eyes would not leave the ground in front of him, he was slouching forward so deeply he seemingly lost close to a meter in height, and if that wasn't enough she could spot, even from this far away, the shaking of his hands. The way he carried himself (if this could be called carrying oneself at all) was nothing like the boy she had met so recently. There was none of the desire to always see humanity in others, none of the acceptance and care and comfort. There was nothing there.

_He's open, now is the best time to see him suffer and die for that man's sins!_

Though that was her original purpose in even stepping foot on this foreign soil, that voice which used to be so bright and loud in her mind was muffled. It had no real energy behind it, and she felt no impetus to follow its whims. Instead, her heart sank as he opened the gate of the church and walked through. His face was cast in shadow, but she could see the faint streaks of dried tears and the bloodshot red of his eyes. He had been hurt deeply.

_Help him._

That voice was quiet but clear. It was what felt right at that moment, and nothing else seemed more right to do. She matched his slow pace as she walked towards him. He didn't seem to notice her, so she took that time to try to prepare what to say. She could have put on the mask of a cute little sister again, but that felt... inappropriate. It wouldn't help in any sense. So she discarded it and decided to approach him like a fellow human being, with all the respect that came with.

It was only when she was directly in front of him that he finally noticed her, and stopped. His eyes barely dragged themselves up to meet her gaze.

"Hey," she said quietly. "Are you okay?"

There was no response from him for a few moments, just his continued dead stare with no soul behind it. Then he grimaced and shook his head.

"No..." he whispered, so uncharacteristic of her impression of him that she almost took a step back. "I... I don't feel okay."

"What's wrong?"

"I..." He lifted his hands up and stared at them as if they were covered in blood. "I... I..."

"It's okay," she took a small step forward, this new font of compassion calling her to act. "I'm here for you."

He looked at her again. Tears began to well up in his eyes, and without warning he fell to his knees in front of her. As his arms wrapped around her shoulders she already had a spell on her lips to form a string of mana with which to decapitate him like a garrote wire. But there was no harmful intent in his hold, only the desperate embrace of a drowning sailor onto the last rock before he fell into the gaping maw of Charybdis.

"I'm a failure..." he gasped through sobs that shook his entire body. "I couldn't save a single person... I let them all die so that I could live..."

Those weren't the words of a traitor, or a selfish entitled brat, or anything that she had imagined him to be when Grandfather first showed her an image of this red-haired boy that occupied her father's time. Those were the words of someone who was hurt and never learned how to mend the wound.

She slowly brought her arms up into a hug of her own, rubbing his back with the soothing motions she remembered her mother giving her.

"It's okay," she whispered again. "I'm here for you. It's okay."

He wept into her thick purple jacket, shuddering with every exhale and definitely dirtying it more than it had been designed for. It was probably worth more than ten times the sum of every article of clothing that he wore, and yet she cared nothing for that. He was a family that she never got to know, and he was in need.

For the first time in years, she was able to restring the memories she had known once, and play them like a fine harp. Not for herself; if it was just for her, she would never have been able to mend the instrument, and it would have been left shattered in pieces, gathering dust in a corner of her mind. But if it was for her stepbrother... she would play it again.

His breathing slowed down from sobs into hiccups. She patted his back a few more times, and then let him go, looking into his faded amber eyes. They were calling out to her, begging her to save him. It only felt right to respond.

"Are you feeling better?" she asked in the most sisterly voice she could manage. He nodded, looking like the child she had seen in that picture so long ago.

"I..." he said after a moment, "I think I am, yeah."

"Okay," she stated with a small smile. "Let's go home."

She had wanted to see where her father had lived for all these years ever since she arrived. This seemed like as good an opportunity as any, and now she could finally have the chance to reconnect with the family she had never gotten to know.

The harp sang a ballad of a time long forgotten, and of the little time she had left that could be well-spent. She took his hand and began to walk, the fading sunlight and the presence of his Servant reminding her that every moment was precious. Assassin was an incarnation of Death made physical, and though Shirou's magic circuits had prevented him from realizing his full potential, it was his very existence that spoke to her of the fading year she had left.

In that small lifespan she had left to live, she made the decision right there that she would focus it on finding happiness in her last living family, and perhaps help him to find a happiness of his own.

* * *

A couple of impulsive rolls first thing in the morning somehow opened the door for Gramps to walk into my Chaldea, so I kinda had to write this. Originally it was supposed to have a fight between him and Gilgamesh, but I realized that with my incompetence at writing fight scenes, it wouldn't be interesting. Someone else did that much better than I (please go read **AshenDream****'s** _And Hell Followed With Them_), so I won't bother retreading the same ground. Instead, you just get more angst. Sorry-not-sorry.

Thanks to the members of my editing team: **TungstenCat**, **Exstarsis**, **Aberron**, and **Katkiller****-V**, who went from an intern to a full-time volunteer. They are wonderful people, all of them, and it is because of them that I can still publish for you guys.

**Aberron** has rewritten the original Scáthach chapter in its entirety and is planning a completely different plotline. Go reread Chapter 2 and perhaps give him some love in reviews for that chapter. I like it a lot better than the original.

**TungstenCat** published something very special — a Kiara/Raikou story called _Clad in Purple and Scarlet_. Sick and tired of seeing Raikou get the same old fetishized-MILF treatment in every story or smut, she decided to show off another side of her character that very few people talk about. Go check it out.

Your ending theme is _in a gentle world_, by **Yuki Kajiura**.

Thanks for reading.


	23. Iskandar 2

"She wants to kill me." Shirou was saying. "But apparently she is also my sister." The boy dragged some of his measly portions of rice to his mouth.

"Sounds about right." He bellowed, drowning out the boy's whinging. "Some of my sisters had to be killed, too."

"What?!" Shirou reacted, spitting rice onto the table. "Why?"

"My father, boy. He created a vision that only had room for one heir. One single heir to inherit all of the earth! He had to increase the chances of having a son by any means necessary. So he had perhaps twenty different wives and concubines that he fathered children on. Your books don't have any of the epic poems that were made about that household and its dealings that survived. But it was well known that our army was training to fight the greatest empire the world had ever known. Which we did!" He thumped his now-empty bowl of rice onto the table. "But the only sister I tolerated was Cleopatra. She had this cute little nephew in another dynasty that was going to turn into a fine man one day. I didn't get to come back to see him, you see."

"How many sisters did you have?"

"I don't know. I only worried about the ones my father recognized."

"Why did you worry about them? Aren't siblings normally friendly with each other?"

"My blood sister, Cleopatra, was the only one I could trust. All of the others wanted my seat as heir, and Cleopatra was married before I was even a threat. So I had help from my mother in dealing with them. Poison was the best, I found. Most people in my family died by random bouts of sickness. Myself included!" Iskandar roared with laughter. "So what if your sister wants to kill you!"

"I want to save her." Shirou said earnestly. "Everyone in this war has someone to live for. Even Souichirou-sensei has something to live for. I have a reason to live. I know that behind that person, behind my sister is a reason that she too must live." The young boy looked up from the table they both sat at. "Can you help me save her, Rider?"

"Oh?" Iskandar opened one eye in interest. "What exactly are we saving her from?"

"Well." Shirou said carefully. "I know she is a powerful magus. But all of them, including Tohsaka have no idea what to expect. Saber is just too powerful for Archer to fight. And Berserker, Tohsaka is the only one to see him so far. She said that Saber drove him back."

"Oho! And shall we trust her words?"

"I trust Rin! She has been a good friend so far."

"Trust is not the word _I_ would use." Iskandar laughed. "After you saved her she seems to pay you close attention. She likes you, boy!"

"Rin? No way!" Shirou reacted, eyes wide.

"Shirou." Iskandar said, drawing the boy's attention back to the table. And the rice that Iskandar inhaled while he wasn't looking. "There will come a time where you have to learn where to draw the line. To decide what can and cannot be saved. No single hero, no matter how great, can save all. Perseus couldn't save every soul travelling down the river Lethe. He had to pick just one soul to save. One soul to bring out of Hades realm. He didn't succeed, even having done just one soul. Do you know why?"

"No." Shirou said, alert. "The only Greek hero I've heard about was Hercules."

"_Heracles._" Iskandar corrected. "The Romans called him Hercules. Heracles was the image that all heroes strived to identify and duplicate. Journeys across foreign soil, despoiling the lands of our enemies, taking of their women and treasures;" Iskandar held his fists out clenched. "And claiming the dignity of the Gods blessing our actions as a result. Some of my actions were selfish in life. But when I worshipped at Halicarnassus the history books remain quiet. They don't mention my earnest prayer to the Gods, to be noticed and respected. Not a month later I cut the Gordian knot."

"So why did Perseus fail?"

"He hesitated." Iskandar stated. "He looked back upon his accomplishments and doubted his intentions as a hero. He doubted his noble character. For that, the soul of his wife was taken back into the underworld, and he was too weak of heart to go back and recover her. No mortal man has entered the underworld more than once, Shirou. It is beyond us to taste of that place and return to mortal life the same."

"Did you go into the underworld?"

"No." Iskandar chuckled. "My father tied me to a tent pole in the middle of camp when we were nearest to the river Acheron. Said I shouldn't get some fool idea in my head of swimming in it." With a calm stare, he brought his hands back to the table. "How will you save someone that wants to kill you?"

"I want to understand her heart. I truly believe that Illya won't kill me. I saw her before I ever summoned you, Rider. She warned me to prepare for the war. She wasn't forthcoming about what to prepare for, but now I understand. I know that deep within her heart she won't kill me. She's the only family I have left. My half-sister."

"Most half-sisters are distant for a reason." Iskandar mused. "But you are my Master. If you believe she is worthy of saving, I will be by your side. We are partners in this war, you and I. I respect your intentions, though question your judgement."

"Question my judgement?"

"She is the master of Berserker, boy. Confronting her on the streets at night favors her Servant. We must change the venue of battle to force her to be on the defensive. We cannot fight to the fullest potential when you are worried about other people getting caught in the crossfire." Iskandar nodded his head, evidence thusly provided. "We must attack Berserker in his own domicile, where he must worry about causing damage or harm."

"That sounds dangerous. Attacking a mage in their home is usually risky, right?"

"Your heart called out to the Grail, Shirou! The spirit summoned was the King of Conquerors. My skills do not lie in defending a fixed position. I say we make the one Servant that you do not want defending a position to do so. Berserker is weakest when he cannot attack. My pilae have fought many a battle against foes such as these. The way you defeat your half-sister is to break her army over your knee and force her to capitulate to you, and take her into your custody. Throw her over your shoulder and take her back to your domicile as proof that you are her best family member!"

"Somehow I think that would give the wrong impression." Shirou brought up, deadpan. "Didn't the Grail give you an understanding on what is appropriate in this era?"

"Like I would listen to such drivel!" Iskandar bellowed. Of course the Grail had. But he didn't believe in those kinds of character decisions. A Hero should be able to walk into a fortress of his foes, defeat them handily, and carry his chosen woman out of the fortress with all of the onlookers too terrified to interfere. "Come, Shirou!" He grabbed the boy, dragging him outside. "We must gather information on your sister!"

"How will we do that?"

"Fuyuki's second owner is none other than Tohsaka Rin! We must conquer her virtue using your outstanding virility and force the information out of her!"

"Wait, wait, Rider! You can't say things like that!" Shirou blabbered on.

"Oh! And I should just let others insult my Master's obvious supremacy as a hero and potential king?" He laughed, drawing his sword and cutting into the air with a tiny burst of mana. "Nay, I say! Nay again, I say! You deserve the world laid before you, Shirou. You may be a Magus but you have a virtuous heart. Such an one deserves only the best! Therefore we shall go to the home of Tohsaka and you shall demand her presence!"

It was but a moment's decision to throw Shirou into the chariot and take off towards the home of Fuyuki's Second Owner. Laughing into the night, Iskandar led his Master to his obvious fate. Archer would see them coming for miles, and should at least give the young Magus time to appear properly adorned for their labors. The girl was a real firecracker, ready and willing to fight in this war. What could drive her to be so? He laughed aloud as the chariot cleared the rooftops, their flight taking them towards the distance home.

**[Only the true of heart can see the path]**

Shirou was halfway thrown from the chariot, Rider clapping him on the back. "Go, my young Master! You know what they always said in Thebes! Bring back a woman or forever be known as one!" He laughed uproariously. "Oh, sacking that city brought such sweet pleasure..."

Shirou ran for the door to Tohsaka's house before he could start ranting about whatever that meant. He tried to ignore what Rider had said before, but couldn't help but blush at the thoughts evoked. Rin liking him? What kind of crazy idea could that be? With a sigh he knocked on the door. Tohsaka liking him, what a thought.

Shirou's mind went into overdrive as he could smell some kind of mana in use. He leapt back as a magic array appeared on the door. Those dark black spells that Rin threw at him before sprayed like a shotgun blast, ready to slam into the ground around him. A circular shield of metal slammed in between the bolts of magic and Shirou, planting into the ground.

"Thank you Rider!" Shirou called, seeing the greek lettering around the shield.

"Archer!" Rin yelled shrilly. "He's not here to kill me!"

"Sorry, Master. I thought I heard Rider vocalize a threat against you." The red archer was sitting in a darkened section of the roof, his bow drawn. "It's too bad your defenses aren't set to kill." He drawled.

"Hi, Rin." Shirou intervened. "Sorry to impose upon you, but we were looking for Berserker's Master. Rider thinks you might have a lead on them."

"Shirou, don't you think it's a little too fast to go after Berserker? Last night you got injured by Caster and Assassin, and you aren't fully recovered. We can't go hunting after the Einzbern master when we can't take on Berserker in the first place." Rin said hotly. "What kind of plan do you even have, anyways?"

Shirou gave Rin a smile, something good to say on his mind. Of course Rider bellowed an interruption. "Throw the screaming woman over your shoulder and let's go! Her fear is making her hysterical!" Rider said this from the chariot parked in Rin's courtyard.

Rin puffed up like an angry red balloon. "Hysterical?!" She stomped past him, out to the chariot. "I am not afraid, Rider. But neither will I condone an all out assault against the Einzbern castle when a Berserker is there! One that seemed to have an A or better in every statistic!"

"Shirou has no fear in his heart, and I have no fear in my actions. Berserker though he might be, if my Master wants to save his sister, we must go after them." Rider motioned for Shirou to follow Rin. The magus stood her ground next to the chariot, still angry and shouting back at the Servant.

"You won't be able to even break Berserker's skin with that, Rider. Shirou can't provide you enough mana to take on Berserker, and that castle has more bounded fields than the Matou manor."

Shirou rubbed the back of his head. "You've been there, Rin?"

The girl hmphed. "Of course! Kirei took me there once to show me what a bounded field should look like. They are designed to kill, Not maim and preserve like mine do."

"Maim and preserve?" Shirou wondered out loud. "Rin, you scare me sometimes."

"You should be scared. You are no Magus. You want to attack the fortified position and _castle_ of one of the three founding families. You have no way of breaking those defenses!"

"Fearful woman." Rider leaned over the side of the chariot. "You declare such a thing impossible yet you summoned a legendary hero to aid you in this war! You break the idea of what is impossible with every one of his steps. I am the King Of Conquerors. There is no fortification I cannot break or be bound by!"

"But you died in life by poison." Rin had vitriol, that was for sure.

"You see, Shirou, she is hysterical. She fails to confront her fears of losing you and thereby losing her best ally in the war. The only way you will prove me wrong is to let me try."

"Like hell!" Rin started yelling, before she gave a shriek as Archer picked her up and set her inside the chariot. "Archer!"

The red Servant shrugged. "They're right and you know it. Studying for your English test won't help you win the holy grail war tonight. I've almost been killed by this thing twice. I want to ride in it at least once before that happens again."

Rin darkened. She did take her studies seriously. "Fine. Let's go and watch Shirou execute a master plan to attack the most magically fortified location of Fuyuki, pitting himself and his stupidly small mana reserves against one of the most powerful Servants and Masters in the war." She glared at Shirou and Archer as the four barely fit into the chariot.

"The woman approves of your vigour!" Iskandar proclaimed. "Come, the sky calls us! To Oceanus!"

Shirou kept trying to make space for Rin to hold onto the edge of the chariot but somehow the girl kept getting pushed into his personal space. By Archer of all people. With the wind whipping by them, the only thing he could do was hold onto his fellow master as the chariot rolled through the sky.

The ride was bumpy, made worse by his precarious position in the chariot. But it came to a stop finally above a forest. In the darkness there was only a single point of light in the area. A large stone edifice that looked like a western castle had been built here. "How did I not know about this before?"

"Hidden by magic." Rin explained, stepping away from him for a moment. "Every inch of this forest is warded against intruders."

"I don't see any stones or markers to use as… ohh." Archer considered. "They just grew the trees into a pattern for mana to act. Rider, we can get through that barrier with a well aimed shot, but they'll know we are here."

"There should be more bounded fields this far out. We should already be within their borders. The last time Kirei took me here, we ran into bounded fields before this point." Rin said, leaning slightly over the edge of the chariot. "Something is wrong."

"There are magus that specialize in breaking bounded fields. Without the Magus who cast them knowing that they are being broken." Archer pointed out. "But to my understanding it takes time and concentration."

"Are you sure you aren't a Caster?" Rin asked skeptically. "What should we do now?"

Iskandar chuckled loudly. "Is it not obvious?! There is a hunter here in these woods. It's prey has no idea that they are coming. We must spring the trap! Trigger all of the bounded fields! Let your sister know that they are coming!"

"And then what happens to us, Rider?" Shirou asked.

"Oh? Who said that we would be the ones triggering it?" Rider took the chariot nearer to the ground. "Come, my friend!" He bellowed, cutting the air with his blade. A horse appeared out of nowhere, without a rider. "Now! Bucephalus! Ride, ride with the wind itself! Hermes be your guide! We shall be right behind you, and batter down the gates!"

The horse bolted, and sparks of mana lit the forest as different layers of bounded fields went off. Flashes of light and power followed the creature, cutting into its flanks and trying to take it down. "Batter down the gates?"

"The trick about an attack is about your approach. Whoever is approaching the castle fears what may happen if they attack unprepared. We do not have such a fear."

"I beg to differ!" Rin yelped, watching as a section of the forest went through an upheaval.

"If the Hunter fears what the prey might do, then it will certainly rouse their anger if a real attack primes the battlefield! We did this with Pontus and the Persian garrison of…" Iskandar realized that no one cared, or the lights of the bounded fields activating was too distracting. "Hmm. I believe that it is time. Rin! Archer! We are here because Shirou wishes to save his sister. I will engage Berserker, while you three go after his master."

"Um, that would be a one way ticket to your funeral." Archer spoke up. "Only Saber could match that guy one on one, and she was getting thrown around like she was a second class Servant. You don't have what it takes to handle this one."

"No foe is beyond the weakest enemy. No armor can be built that a weapon cannot penetrate with time and effort. No single foe can be immune to all things. Though he might be a Berserker, I will prove that _I_ am the better! For I am the King of Conquerors!" The gates of the castle shattered open at this, as Iskandar bellowed his challenge and stopped his chariot inside.

Berserker was already there, standing at the far end of the hall. He was an eight foot tall behemoth of a man, wielding an axe or sword as large as he was. Only an armored kilt rested around his hips to conceal his skin, and every inch of the giant was rippling with muscle. Rin and Archer wasted no time in getting off the chariot, while Shirou waited a moment longer. Iskandar was letting out a sound akin to a kettle boiling. "What's wrong, Rider?" Shirou asked quietly. Iskandar's eyes were dilated, and the man looked like he might have felt fear.

"Shirou!" Iskandar whispered with some worry. "That is the hide of the Nemean Lion. The only thing that can contain the glorious form of the greatest hero the world has ever known…" Rider actually gulped. "I fear that my boasting may have cost us victory."

"What?!" Shirou gave the enemy another look. "That's Heracles?" Twin jets of steam came out of Berserker's nose, as if his anger burned so hot the air around him could not contain it.

"Yes. Though the man in front of us is bound by Mad Enhancement, I fear that I will never be his equal." Iskandar said, sucking in a deep breath through his nose. "Pray for me, Shirou. For I will not break my word to you. Save your sister!" Rider threw him up over a second story banister, catching up with Rin and Archer. Then, inexorably slow, he faced Berserker alone. No horses, no chariot. Just his own sword and shield.

"Heracles!" He bellowed. "Face me, oh mighty son of Zeus! Show me the spirit of the nation that brought the entire world to its knees! Show me that my heritage was not in vain! For I am Iskandar! King of Macedon, Greece, Egypt, Pontus and Persia!" More words were exchanged, but Shirou had already run. Rider was doing exactly as he promised.

Berserker roared and charged, and Shirou felt more than heard the titanic clash. He was around a corner upstairs already, following Rin as she led the way. "This way, stupid! We have to find her before whatever else is attacking does!"

Around the corner, they could see a head of white hair running from them. "There she is! Illya!" Shirou yelled. "Stop running, we are trying to save you!"

"Do you think I'm an idiot? No way!" Illya ran faster, trying to get distance on them. Archer appeared in front of her, causing her to come to a halt. She grit her teeth, looking between them and the Servant. She growled, looking around her.

"Before you try to kill us, I want to say something. All we want to do is talk."

Rin interrupted. "Actually," She raised her finger judgmentally. "He is the only one who wants to talk. I am _perfectly_ fine with ending your life if it means that my life will be easier."

Illya seemed to relax. "I'll let you speak for as long as it takes for Berserker to catch up and kill you all."

"Illya." Shirou started by saying. "I know we don't know each other. It's no fault of mine that it happened. But I have lived my entire life only knowing a shadow of the man who adopted me. If you really are my sister, then you knew our father before he got sick. The man I knew wasted away before me, teaching me only ideals. Whatever strength he had left was gone after he went to Germany our first year. He came back broken and empty. Without hope." Shirou said, quickly. "The night he came back he cried through the night. Then he made up a bedroom with a western bed. No one ever stayed there, but I think I finally understand why he kept it. Why he asked me to still keep it." Shirou walked forwards, coming up to Illya with purpose.

"I won't call that man father. He never came back. He never kept his promise." Illya answered stiffly.

"I don't know what he promised you. I don't know what his life was like before the fire. But I think he would have wanted us to protect one another! We are in this war together, Illya. We shouldn't be fighting against each other! We are family!"

"Masters are only summoned by the Holy Grail War if they have a wish. A wish so strong that it commands the attention of the Grail." Illya said, coldly. "You are only getting close to me to deny my chances of victory." Back in the main hall, there was a sound of stone shattering as Rider and Berserker continued to brawl. "You just want your wish."

"I would give it up, if it meant keeping the people I care about safe." Shirou replied earnestly.

"Without question?"

"I don't care about the Grail. I only want people to not get hurt. Caster has been draining everyone of their magic, and a Saber class Servant was killing people, too. We aren't here to kill you, or stop you. I'll even help you win the war if that's what it takes for you to trust me." Shirou came to a stop in front of Illya and Archer, who was looking at him was extreme distaste. "But you are the only family I have left. That's worth fighting for."

The floor beneath them quaked, splitting the hallway down the middle as an axe blade cleaved the floor apart. It was heading right for Rin. Archer moved forwards, his own blades shattering as they blocked the carving weapon. Shirou fell back, one of the columns falling over next to him. Illya jumped down through the gap, giving him a last glance. "If you still have a Servant at the end of this, I promise not to kill you!"

Rin pulled herself to her feet, letting off a trio of Gandr curses, her sickly sweet tone ruined by how loud she was yelling. "She's a real sweetie, Shirou! Let's just break her spine and I can heal her later!"

Another part of the building rumbled, ahead of them. Archer bolted forwards, eyes looking for any sign of trouble. Rin kept pace, and Shirou ran with them. When they arrived at an inner courtyard, they could see another battle already being fought. A golden haired man was confronting Illya in the courtyard, and there were two women with her. Walking next to the golden man was a second person. "Shinji?! How did he get another Servant?"

"Saber was bad enough in his hands, this seems to be going from bad to worse." Archer pointed out. "We can still retreat, Rin. He hasn't seen us yet."

The Golden haired man glanced in their direction once. That was enough. Archer grabbed both of them and bolted, as the entire hallway behind them was awash with fire. Coughing as the air was driven from his throat, Archer slid into a side passageway and held them down as a secondary explosion washed over them. "Archer!"

"Rin! Fight or retreat!" Archer yelled. "Is this important to you!"

Rin didn't hesitate. "You're the Archer! Show this guy how it feels!"

"Get down to the first floor. Don't die, Master." Archer said, giving Shirou a long glance as he summoned his bow to begin his own assault.

Shirou could see holes being torn out of the upper gallery of the house, as Archer engaged with the golden haired man below. It seemed like they were evenly matched. "Whose Servant is that?!" He yelled to Rin. "What kind of Servant are they?"

"I couldn't get a good look at them, but I saw Shinji down there! Saber's already gone, so what the hell!"

"Rin, we've seen every Servant in this war already. Are there any classes that can be summoned outside of the normal rules?"

"Yeah! I just don't want that to be true!" Rin said, growling at the presence of another massive staircase. "The Einzbern architect should be shot!" She yelled, the bannister crowned with crenelations to prevent anyone sliding down them. "If that's an eighth Servant, then it might be an Avenger or Ruler class. Neither of those are good."

"I can't see Shinji just finding another Servant." Shirou started saying, before Rin grabbed him and threw him down.

"Shirou get down!" She yelled. He obediently let the woman push him into cover, as the walls around them exploded. Stone and masonry sprayed everywhere, as Berserker and Iskandar came into the room. Iskandar was brutalized, his armor dented or destroyed entirely. Shirtless and with only his tattered cloak covering his upper body, the Servant laughed aloud.

"Yes! Now this is an Olympiad!" He bellowed in laughter, spitting blood as he danced around heavy punches from Berserker. A knee strike caught him, sending him rolling out into the hallway between them and the courtyard. "Ach!"

Berserker then turned his gaze upon Shirou and Rin. Shirou, gulping, held up a sword given to him by Rider. Parts of the giant's body smoked, wounds healing almost instantly. Shirou wasn't going to do an ounce of damage to this thing. But so long as Rin was behind him, he would have to try.

"Move!" Rin yelled. One of her crystals flew through the air, hovering on top of Berserker. Rin muttered a word of magic, as the crystal flashed, magic arcing out and binding the giant. "That won't hold him long!"

Shirou and Rin leapt the rest of the bannister, sprinting towards their now-only exit. The same courtyard where Archer and the other Servant were dueling. Rider came back into the room just as Rin's spell fractured. "Ha! Most excellent, woman!"

Rin did not like being called that, he could tell. Rider leapt up onto Berserker's back, and started _wrestling_ the giant. "Your Servant is insane!" Rin added. They emerged onto the battlefield, where Archer and the golden man were firing back and forth at each other. Craters were everywhere, with the only place of safety being near the man in gold and a fountain that provided some small piece of cover. Fire and flames were everywhere, stone itself on fire in many cases.

"Archer isn't any better!" Shirou pointed out, as he looked over the courtyard. There, taking cover in the ruins of the fountain was his sister. "Illya! I'm coming!"

Her red eyes zeroed on his own, unsure of what to expect. "Shirou! Help me!"

That got the attention of the man with golden hair. "Oh? A mongrel here to save you? I thought I had killed all of your little friends already. What's one more, hmm?"

A glowing golden portal opened next to the man, a weapon the size of the house emerging. Shirou's eyes widened, trying to rationalize what was going to happen now, before throwing the muck of higher thought away. He didn't even consider the consequences. He just threw himself in front of Illya. "I'll never let you!"

The golden man was amused, as he threw the massive weapon forwards. It hit a glowing purple shield, as Archer interposed himself between them. "Rin! I need mana!" He yelled. The young mage seemed to focus, nodding. Archer held out his one free arm.

"Pay attention, Shirou Emiya! If there is any single moment in your life you need to bear witness to, this is the one!" Archer yelled, sweating as he held back an assault of blades and weapons. "_I am the bone of my sword._" He said, magic pouring off of him and into the world itself. More words came, burning themselves into Shirou's mind like a hammer on hot steel. The edges of the shield began flaking harder, and the golden man seemed to give his own chant.

Illya cried out, four golden chains piercing right through her and splattering her blood upon the stone. "Hmph," the golden haired man said, "and so your treasure is mine. You still wish to fight, Faker?" Archer redoubled his efforts, completing his chant.

"_Illya!_" Shirou screamed helplessly, desperately reaching out for her.

"_And yet these hands will never hold anything, so I pray, Unlimited Blade W—_" Archer never finished his sentence. The golden haired man broke through directly, appearing from out of nowhere. His blades carved into the man in red. Mana exploded as Archer fell, his chant unfinished and a part of Shirou's soul burning to know what it was that he was trying to do. With a single strike from a glowing polearm, Archer rolled through the courtyard and into a shattered window frame.

Shirou was on him the moment he acted, but the pommel of another weapon sank into his shoulder, and then he was flying through the air into the remains of the fountain. Rin tried some of her magecraft, but the golden man summoned some kind of horn, blowing it with a vicious grin. Shirou couldn't hear anything, but Rin cried out, falling down as she clutched at her bleeding ears. With a huff of effort, the golden man lifted the body of his sister from the ground. "I let you live, Mongrel. The faker is dead, and if you try to stop me you shall follow in his footsteps." he said over his shoulder, not even worried about him.

Rider was drawing on his mana too much to be able to do anything at this point. Shirou managed to stand up, looking around. Rin was rolling on the ground, but uninjured besides whatever happened to her ears. Archer, though. He was falling apart. One of his arms was gone. The rest of his body was equally damaged. "You did this." He muttered, trudging to Shirou. "You put us at risk for nothing! Now Gilgamesh has the lesser grail!"

"I never thought—"

"Exactly!" Archer yelled louder. "I know you weren't thinking! I know exactly how you felt! I've been there! Now you've cost us everything!"

"We can still win this!"

"You're a fool." Archer stated. "I've forgotten how much of an idiot you are, listening to the words of an even bigger fool. Kiritsugu Emiya was not the hero you believed in. The ideal you are trying to follow cannot exist!"

"I don't care! I won't know if I don't try!"

Archer stood next to him, now. "My name is EMIYA." Archer said, the edges of his body starting to turn to dust. "I am the heroic spirit that is the result of you going down this path. If you don't give up these fool ideals now, you will become _this_. A murderous killer with no remorse and no mercy. Just like _our_ father."

"Wait. You're…"

"Rin doesn't have to know. She can't hear anything right now. I can't protect her anymore. I have to trust your incapable hands with the job." He groaned, as his form seemed to be falling apart. "Trace On." He gasped, his two signature swords appearing on the ground near him. "You are not someone who fights, Shirou. You can only create. If you remember nothing else, remember this! Create your victory. Don't fight for the victory, rip it right from the world and make it your own." Archer's voice grew more and more quiet, as his body turned into a final mote of light.

Even after Archer was gone, his weapons remained. Shirou just breathed, trying to understand what had just happened. Shirou took a few moments to gather himself, picking up the weapons and putting Rin over his shoulder. He found Rider a few rooms away, next to a giant crater, holding onto a shattered bit of clay. Tears were running down his face. "Rider, what happened?"

Rider gave Shirou a sad smile. And he told him.

**[More than a King, Less than a Hero]**

The moment Shirou was out of his hands, Iskandar was in motion. The boy would do his duty as a Hero, and he had no doubts about him. The only doubt in Iskandar's life was his own capability. He could fight armies of men, kings and emperors. He had fought every foe that man could ever challenge him with. This was an entirely different problem. He had always claimed to be a demi-god, and here was the real thing. "Son of Zeus!" He bellowed again, the Servant seemingly ignoring him. He wanted to protect his master. "I, Iskandar, king of the Greeks, conqueror of the world, would stake all that I have and all that I know against you! For nothing of my life would compare to defeating you!"

The Servant turned back to him. A Berserker had mad enhancement, but that did not mean they didn't understand the spoken word. He huffed his nose, once. As if not impressed. "You think I am not even a threat to you, even as we are. I tell you this. If I had met you in life I would have done the same. I conquered the world and the world shattered around me. And yet I considered your words and deeds my spiritual sires! My tutors proclaimed that my competition in life were demi-gods and heroes rather than men. So I say again! I challenge you, Son of Zeus! Throw me down, and I shall rise again and again until I stand over you, having won!"

That did it. Berserker leapt forwards, his axe blade swinging with great force. Iskandar was faster only by virtue of being in the Rider class. Had he been his mortal self he would have lost his entire empire by now. Their first clash sent him back onto his left foot, his sword rattling in his hand after matching Heracles' strength. "Well." Iskandar admitted. "I am not broken in half! Poseidon must still despise you! I am filled with his rage!"

Heracles roared, letting Iskandar stab him in the hand. Then he shattered Rider's sword with his own axe blade, leaving Iskandar with just his shield. With a huff of steam he caught the foot of Berserker and slammed into a wall, across the room. "Hah!" Iskandar chuckled. "Hahaha!" Humor, his friends often said, was the best medicine. "Heracles?" He looked up, and the giant was gone. "Ah! Shirou!"

With a quick whistle, Bucephalus appeared and carried him through the halls towards the demi-god. "This was a bad idea in life.. But I love it!" He summoned the weapon of Macedon to his hand. The pilae appeared, in all eighteen feet of its glory. It was nothing special. Nothing but a divine weapon could pierce the skin of Heracles, and it felt as though that remained true to this battle. His sword barely scratched him. His noble phantasm would probably just tickle the demi-god. The giant was carving the ceiling of the hallway, his giant blade leaving gouges the size of horses in the stonework. It was the first thing he had to remove. He said nothing on this charge, as he brought the eighteen feet of spear up. Heracles saw it coming and sidestepped, bringing his blade down. Iskandar grinned.

The pilae was made after his time. He didn't know how it worked! With a wild grin, he let the two halves of the spear separate, and let the giant sword pass through Bucephalus. The horse was a summon, and he would never lose his friend. But with that, he used all of his strength to drive both halves of the pilae into the ground, pinning the gigantic weapon by the hilt. "And now, Heracles. I will beat you!" Disarmed, the most powerful hero of Greece was still potent. He had killed many with his fists before. And yet, Iskandar's knees were shaking with excitement at the prospect of going up against him! Yes, his body held so much excitement and anticipation at this day!

Near them, Illya dropped through the hole and took their attention for a moment. But it was the signal they needed. Fists flew and Iskandar laughed. Well, that was until Heracles grabbed him by the beard and threw him into a window. "Agh... that's a new feeling." Iskandar muttered, standing back up. Still, the hero needed his own kind of wake up call. Iskandar threw his shield, catching him in the knee. Then he leapt, wrapping his arms and a single leg around Heracles' shoulders and neck.

"The most noble sport in all of Greece!" He yelled. "Our very own epoch!" Wrestling was the only way he was going to win this. In a competition of wrestling, strength and size did not always matter. Skill was what it came down to. Heracles rolled through a wall, coming out in a staircase and right next to Rin and Shirou. "Now this is an Olympiad!" He screamed into Heracles' ear. But the roll broke their connection together, and it was back to fists swinging. That ended predictably for his more mortal self, as he flew further.

Young Rin had pinned Heracles for a moment, and it was all that he needed. "Ha! Most excellent, woman!" Her red faced anger brought a small semblance of joy to his soul. A woman like that needed to have her heart riled. With clear intent, he placed the Berserker Servant into a full headlock. There was no escape now. As soon as he was free of Rin's spell, the demi-god found the most stable wall and began slamming Iskandar into it like a hammer and anvil. And yet he still held on, choking the Servant. He found another wall, and the process repeated until the chamber around them was nearly shattered. Iskandar still somehow held on, feeling each strike getting ever weaker. "I am a son of Greece! I will never give in!" He gasped, armor long shattered. "I am a true hero this day!" He said, more to himself.

But Heracles was stronger. Even after a minute of having no air, the Servant overpowered him, dragging Iskandar from his shoulders and slamming him into the ground hard enough to crater it. Wind knocked out of him, it was enough. Heracles stepped on his stomach, clearly intending to leave and murder his master. "N-no..." Iskandar wheezed. From his belt, he grabbed his sword hilt. The blade was shattered but it did not matter. "Gordius..." He whispered, waving the sword.

Like a righteous hammer the Gordius Wheel was summoned, its divine aurochs carving a bloody path through the Greek demi-god. They split him down the middle, the chariot appearing as called. And with that, the corpse of Berserker fell, pinning him to the crater. Something happened outside, as both of them could feel something terrible happen to their masters. And yet Berserker was dying and he was broken upon the flagstones. Iskandar let his head fall back, breathing in the sweet air of victory. "I... am..."

Of course, the gods are cruel creatures. Zeus never liked his family. On top of him, Heracles pieced himself back together. Because of course the son of Greece could regenerate any wound. With a roar, his face was now inches above his own, one glowing red eye wild and angry. Yet the other, the other blazed with a human intelligence. And it's focus was upon him, singularly.

"**Hero.**" The demi-god expressed, with great difficulty. There was another explosion outside, and Berserker looked like his strings had been cut. His fingers were fading. He looked upon his titanic form and realized coldly that his part in this war was over. Illya was dead. Which meant that Shirou had failed. As his body started losing cohesion, the Servant Heracles looked upon Iskandar one last time.

"**I would have named you as one of my sons...**" The demi-god whispered, as his body disappeared into a mist of golden ashes. "**Iskandar**."

He let out a breath he was holding. There was nothing more, absolutely nothing else this world could offer him now. Heracles would have taken him as a son! Rider felt his eyes fill with tears. Heracles' own sons could never defeat him. Not a single one. And yet he, Iskandar the Great, had done so! His limbs were dead weight, and his sword was shattered. Yet he had won. There was no greater honor that he could experience in life or in death.

That was how Shirou found him. Nearly broken, and if it had not been for his powers as a Servant he would be dead. Yet his Master walked into the room, carrying Rin over his shoulder like the image of Zeus himself. Yes, the thought brought a smile to his lips. Bloodied and beaten, and yet they stood tall. "Master!" He coughed.

"They took Illya." He murmured. "He killed her. Gilgamesh."

The King of Heroes. The first demi-god to throw off the yoke of the age of gods. Not a good foe to have. That name tickled his memory. "I fought him before. The last time." Iskandar closed his eyes, the only parts of his face not covered in dirt the tracks from the tears. "We have a score to settle." Shirou said nothing, his eyes cast towards the ground.

With great effort, Iskandar drew himself up, looking at the boy he called Master. "What defines a hero, Shirou?" Iskandar let his body hit the ground, loudly. It was too much to stand, yet. "Is it the stars, cruel and uncaring? Is it the day or night? Is it the wind and the waves?" Iskandar's fist thumped Shirou in the chest. "It is the heart! You have faced every mortal peril that man can afford to face in his life, already so young. So what if your sister has died? Be the hero you know you can be and go into the underworld to save her!" Iskandar heavily rose, until his face was inches from Shirou's own. "And if the river Acheron has taken her, you take revenge. I am with you to the end, Shirou." His hand moved to his shoulder, the ham fist a heavy weight on his Master's body. "And ever and ever."

"But—"

"If you finish that sentence you will never be the hero I know you can be." He said seriously. "We will find your sister's killer, Shirou. Vengeance is one of the defining features of a Hero."

"Vengeance?" His voice begged for there to be another answer, perhaps seeking hope or justice.

"The first line of the Iliad is the word _menin_. Rage, Shirou. Rage enough to burn from the heart to the hand holding the blade. A heart with no feeling cannot make a hero. A king who is also a hero must feel all that his followers feel. He must feel more hope, more greed, and more desires than those he leads. He must feel rage, for without it the heart will grow complacent. I died with no regrets and no lack of passion, my Master. I will not let you die without the _chance_ to feel an iota of that. So, I am with you until the end."

"Forever and ever." His Master echoed. The boy had the conviction for this. He was the man who could win this war. The sniveling man-child would never be able to control Gilgamesh. Rin had lost her Servant. Saber and Caster were gone. Iskandar reached over to the Gordius Wheel, pulling them all into it. He placed a hand around Shirou's shoulders. No words needed to be said. Not between such close friends. There was nothing to do now but to win this war. There was not an iota of doubt in his mind that they would win.

* * *

From Abe:

"Hey guys, just wanted to let you know that Iskandar has not let out his last breath yet. This chapter was a delight to write and put together, and Pallan and I are planning more excellent story as we go forwards. But we _both_ knew that there was no way we could move on without touching on Iskandar again. The man is too much for the page he is written on. Some would say that what Iskandar and Shirou can do together is confined to a one shot.

I would never listen to such drivel.

Thank you guys and enjoy the fun. This piece was amazing to put together."

What else can I say? The guy knocked it out of the park yet again. That Heracles confession...

Your ending theme is _The Legend_ by **Yuki Kajiura**.

Thanks for reading.


	24. Artoria Pendragon (Santa Alter) 2

Shirou rubbed his freezing mitten-covered hands together, blowing thick clouds of air onto them to try to bring feeling back into them to no avail. It was one of the coldest days of the year and he was feeling it down to his bones. Issei had asked him to stay at school longer than usual, and then the Copenhagen had been flooded with people trying to escape from the cold. His shift stretched on far past his typical clock-out time, so now he was walking home in heavy snow at 21:30, with faint streetlights the only illumination.

But he did not feel unsafe. With the War long over, the worst he had to fear was how he was going to catch up with all the school material he had missed. The War had weighed heavily on his mind, threatening to shatter his psyche into pieces, but he felt like he had emerged on the other side a better man. A more whole human being, at least.

He shivered and stuffed his hands in the pockets of his coat, focusing on walking home even more quickly. No point staying outside longer than he had to just because his thoughts were wandering.

He turned onto his street, his gaze locked onto the snow-covered sidewalk in search of potential icy patches. He nearly slipped a couple times despite that, but managed to not make a complete fool of himself and bruise himself by falling. Eventually, he made it to his front gate, opening it with a sigh—

—that promptly turned into a choked gasp as he noticed what appeared to be a chimney sticking out of the roof of his house. He had only recognized it from Western movies, though those were normally made of brick or stone. This one was... some kind of sick patchwork of metal and wood, no consistency or smoothness to be found in its structure. A hodgepodge of different items and—

_Hold on. Those are pieces of the radiator I had been repairing. Is this...?_

All thoughts of escaping the cold gone, he sprinted around the side of his house, begging for his expectations to not be fulfilled. But his hopes were dashed as he stopped, finding that his shed had become a skeleton of its former self. Its contents were stripped bare and all that was left was perhaps a third of the wooden frame.

He was... unhappy would be a mild way of putting it. Not so much so that he would rush through his back entrance in dirty boots to yell at her. But he was not exactly ready to enter with a smile. He took a few deep breaths as he walked back to his entrance. He was not going to explode at her. He was going to approach this calmly and rationally.

"I'm home," he called out neutrally as he opened the door. There was no one in the entrance hallway, and he got no reply. He took his shoes off and maintained his neutral mindset.

_When approaching a lion, do not show weakness. In this case, weakness is lashing out._

Hanging his coat on the rack, he made his way into his living room without haste. The room was dark as he entered, and his eyes couldn't help but be drawn to the lower half of the misshapen chimney. He noted the absence of his kotatsu, as the chimney was standing right where the table normally was. Rider knelt in front of it, stoking a small fire by throwing pieces of wood onto it, which provided all of the light in the room.

_Please don't tell me those are pieces of the kotatsu..._

She turned, her cool smile dimly visible amidst the flickering shadows of the flames.

"Welcome home, Shirou," she said as if this was just another normal evening. He recentered himself.

"Thank you, Rider." He chose his next words carefully. "Why is there a chimney in my living room?"

"Santa has magecraft that uses chimneys to teleport from house to house," she replied easily, "and without one in yours, I would have no way to return after delivering presents."

'"You're only going to find chimneys on Western-style houses, of which there are very few in Fuyuki." He kept his voice calm and collected. No outbursts. "This is impractical and unnecessary."

"Hmm..." she looked back to the fire, holding her chin. After a moment, she nodded. "The answer is simple. I will gift all of your fellow townsfolk a chimney for Christmas."

_Nope. Nuh-uh. Can't do it anymore._

"Rider, no." He almost physically stamped his foot down. "You can't give people chimneys for Christmas. That's even more property damage than you caused last time, something that is _still unexplained to this day._"

"They do not appreciate the joy I bestowed upon them." She shook her head and sighed. "Being Santa truly is a thankless job, but it is my duty nonetheless. I do not need their gratitude."

"Rider—"

"Shirou, listen to me." Her eyes locked onto his, and everything that he wanted to lecture her about fled from her amber gaze. "I know that you cannot grasp the nuance that comes with this position, but I do not make gift choices lightly. There is a very specific reason why I have decided upon this."

"The only thing I can think of is that you want to make it easier for you to break into people's homes," he muttered, though of course it was picked up by her Servant-augmented hearing. She smirked.

"You know me too well, _Master._" The way she emphasized the title was playful, but it made him think back to the war and all the trials he faced in it. He sighed and sat down next to her, putting his bag down and leaning back on his hands.

"Are you happy here, Rider?" he asked, staring into the flames.

"That is a question derived from insecurity over your ability to retain my affections, isn't it?"

He blushed and shook his head with force.

"No, no... I mean, you're not really doing anything except waiting for me to come home. You built this because you had nothing better to do, didn't you?"

"Hmph." Her silence spoke volumes. "I cannot completely deny that. But know that my stated purpose was the intention behind this craftwork. I am simply trying to make my job as Santa that much easier."

"Do you think if you started working, you wouldn't have done this?"

A hand wrapped around his face and forcibly turned it to face a very serious Santa.

"Shirou, I already have a full-time position," stated the stern Saint Nick. "There is no such thing as self-delivering presents, or a self-building chimney."

"I-I mean, you're not usually building chimneys..." He trailed off at her growing smile.

"Well, if it is as you say, and Fuyuki represents your entire nation," she let go of his face, and he rubbed the sore spots she had held onto while she stretched her arms out, "then the description of my position has just had 'chimney builder' added onto it. Japan may be an advanced country with technology far beyond what my own had ever known, but a lack of chimneys bespeaks its true backwards nature."

"We just have different kinds from what you know!" he protested, but she shook her head.

"The magecraft only works on the kind I am familiar with," she countered, then waved her hand. "Be silent, Shirou. We have spoken of this enough and it is already set in stone. I do not care to waste air and time on this subject. Prepare the traditional Christmas meal."

"What, like... a turkey?" he asked, befuddled. "Are you kidding me? Those aren't even native to Japan, and to import one is _extremely_ expensive!"

He only had so much money for her endless appetite.

"Of course not," she huffed. "I mean the traditional meal for Santa. I have done no small amount of research and acquired you the proper ingredients, and in return you are to prepare me at least four dozen snickerdoodles along with an unlimited amount of glasses of milk."

It was very hard to keep his jaw from dropping.

"You... actually went outside?" He almost rubbed his eyes, unsure if seeing was believing in this case. "You bought me... wait, with what money?"

Rider scoffed.

"The bills that you left for me in your closet, of course."

Just like that, he found his resolve to lecture her once more.

"Rider, that wasn't for you—"

"Then why did you leave it for me?" she pressed.

"That was my _backup,_" he made sure what he meant was clear with the emphasis. "I was saving that for a bad day where I couldn't make it to a bank!"

"Well, obviously, I could not go to a bank myself." She rolled her eyes. "You already have control of your finances, Shirou. Are you unwilling to allot such a small amount to be gifted by Santa?"

"_That was fifty thousand yen!_" Despite his better judgement, his voice leapt to a new height, but it had no effect on her. She only nodded.

"Yes, and I was able to buy the best butter and sugar I could find with that. I thank you for the donation, Shirou." Despite her rather impish answer, a genuine smile graced her lips as she looked to him.

He could have said so much more. He could have shouted and screamed and stomped around, but by now he could see the writing on the wall. She was not going to listen to him, no matter what, and so he gave up. It was a large amount, but it didn't dip significantly into his savings. He considered it part of that deep pit of funds that he called 'Artoria's stomach' and let it go. Life was too short to get upset over...

_...fifty thousand yen, no, damn it, I'm still angry._

He took a few deep breaths again, closing his eyes to block out the world. That was his only way of calming down at this point. He opened it up again to find her kneeling in front of him, her short stature and intense gaze inviting the comparison to a hungry lion eyeing a zebra. Her eyes betrayed her intentions, sparkling with innocent childlike desire.

"Okay, okay, I'm going!" he said, throwing his arms up and rising from the floor to walk to the kitchen, turning on the light in the small nook as he did so.

He had to dig through his cookbooks to find the specific one he needed, because though he had baked cookies on occasion, snickerdoodles were unfamiliar to him. He almost asked Rider how she knew what ingredients to buy, but somehow felt that whatever she answered with would just make him want to ask more questions, and he was trying to _not_ fall into that trap again.

After blowing dust off the book of baked treats, he easily found a snickerdoodle recipe in it and got started. It was not a complex process, though, as with almost any kitchen-related activity, it required him to be able to keep track of multiple trains of thought and items, so it was very important to be able to maintain focus over long periods of time.

RIder sitting on his counter and occasionally picking at his cookie dough did not help.

"Stop that," he said for the eighth time, smacking her hand as she reached for yet another tray of unbaked cookies.

"You would deny Santa her right to hospitality as your guest?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I would tell Santa that she is welcome to enjoy my hospitality," he looked her in the eye before picking up the tray and putting it in the oven with one mitt-clad hand, the other grabbing a tray of finished cookies and pulling it out. He placed the hot tray on top of his oven to let it cool down and closed the door once more. "But I would ask that she have some patience so she can enjoy it fully."

Removing a large porcelain serving plate from his cabinet, he arranged the first finished batch of snickerdoodles in a nice pattern. It was not hard to hear Artoria's audible drool and her attempt to cover it up by wiping at her mouth. He couldn't help but turn away from her for a moment with a wry smile. He only handed it to her after pouring out a glass of milk filled almost to the brim.

With eagerness that would appear uncharacteristic to anyone else, she ate an entire snickerdoodle (they were the size of his entire hand, so this was not an easy feat) and drank half of the glass. Wiping at the small milk mustache that formed, she nodded.

"Good work as always," she said, letting herself fall off of the countertop with ease and refilling her glass with the milk that was still out. "I will await you by the fireplace. Do not mind the noise."

_The noise?_

The noise, as it were, referred to the clamor of construction she was creating, somehow forming a condensed cartoonish cloud of dust in his living room. It was just thick enough to be opaque and just small enough to not spread beyond the confines of that room. There was no way it was natural.

_Is this another kind of... Santa magecraft?_

Well, he wasn't exactly the most experienced student of the Moonlit World, so perhaps he wasn't qualified to comment on it. He turned back to his baking, his craft that he knew inside and out, and let his mind sink into the soothing repetition. The noise did not end up bothering him all that much, so immersed was he in his work, and after an indeterminate amount of time passed he had collected a few stacks of snickerdoodles. He balanced them precariously on another serving plate and poured another glass of milk.

"Rider, I'm finished," he called out to the living room, turning off the kitchen light switch with his elbow. With those words the 'cloud' slowly dissipated, revealing a very cozy Santa swaying in a red rocking chair, both an empty plate and glass beside her on a green wooden table.

"Ah, Shirou," she spoke softly, the first time that night he heard her speak in such a kind tone. She rose from the chair with her arms outstretched. "Thank you. Please take a seat."

"Uh, sure." He handed the contents of his hands to her and sat down in the chair, letting it rock him back and forth. Despite its hasty construction, it moved smoothly and he found his entire body relaxing just from sitting down.

Rider placed the full plate on top of the empty and the full glass next to it, then turned around and sat down in his lap. His face flustered further as she took his hands in her own, interweaving their fingers together and wrapping his arms around her. She sighed as she leaned into him.

"You make the perfect throne," she murmured happily.

"Err, happy to be... of service...?"

She tucked her head in the nook of his throat.

"Let me tell you a story," she said after a pregnant pause that left Shirou tense, though not frozen. This was not completely unfamiliar to him, after all. She was not one to engage in many affectionate measures, but when she did, they were never subtle. "This story begins with a question. What defines a king?"

_Ah. She wants to talk about her past._

There were a few times during the War that she would talk about what she was before she became... 'Santa', but details had been sparse. All he knew was that she was some kind of royal related to King Arthur (hence the sword she called Excalibur), and that at some point she decided that she needed to answer a higher calling.

"Their... blood?"

"Hm." She replied with the kind of small chuckle that never left your throat. "The mediocre ones, perhaps. But you are at least, in some sense, a student of history, are you not? Think of the best kings, or I suppose, in the case of this land, consider the lineage of your emperors or shoguns. The Chrysanthemum Throne, as I believe it is called, is not always occupied by one with the wise forethought of Emperor Meiji. So what are the qualities inherent to a good monarch?"

"You should have started with that question..." he mumbled.

"Ah, but it does not roll off the tongue as easily, and is not nearly as fun." He could hear her smile. "Your answer?"

"Well... they rule fairly," he started, "they're decisive, diplomatic, and charismatic. They lead by example, not by just commanding and ordering. They're a role model for every one of their citizens. They're willing to sacrifice things in the short term for great gain in the long term, but... they know that people die when they are killed so—"

"Yes, yes, you have a rough grasp of it," she waved a hand to interrupt him. "So now I shall tell you a small story. You are familiar with the rise and fall of the Kingdom of Camelot?"

"I know some things about it, but probably not the whole story."

"Hm. Perhaps that is for the better. It will spare you unnecessary details." An uncharacteristic silence came over her as she stared down into the fireplace, and in that pause he took the time to readjust himself to get more comfortable.

"King Arthur attempted to reach his ideal of kingship by becoming more than human," she spoke. "Being trained by his half-incubus tutor and inheriting the promised future of humanity through Excalibur caused him to... throw away sin. He left lust behind, and with it passion. He left greed behind, and with it ambition. He left envy behind, and with it empathy. Discarding his humanity allowed him to become a king, and yet he was still betrayed multiple times over. Why do you think that is?"

Shirou processed what she had said. It was... intense, and too familiar to be comfortable.

"How can a king rule fairly if he can't understand his people?" he finally replied. She turned her head up and gave him a satisfied smile.

"Yes," she said, "that was the ultimate problem. A king is supposed to be a role model, but he has to be one his subjects feel they can _reach_. If they do not feel they can become the person, the _human_, that the king is, then they will not try. They will be upset by how he cannot truly understand their hearts. Eventually, they will betray him and revolt, and he can either die as the ideal he wished to become, or crush them with his might and see himself turn into the tyrant he never wanted to be. So when King Arthur engaged his son in battle, even though the rebellion came from an unjust place, it was not just for him to reply in kind."

She sighed and leaned into him even more, and he could feel her weight sag. She felt... tired.

"What should he have done, Shirou?" she asked, and this did not feel like a whimsical question.

"He..." he started, only to stop in thought. It took him some time to come up with the answer. "If he couldn't negotiate, and he couldn't change, then he should have... moved on."

Another sigh.

"And so he did," she said quietly. "He was offered a deal unlike any other, one that he accepted. Now he has a new kingdom, where he spreads joy and cheer to everyone he can."

The implications of that took a few moments to sink in. While they did, Santa said softly, "I believe this time that king can better understand the hearts of his subjects. After all, that's the most important task of the King of Christmas."

"Wait, you—"

"Shush," she hit his forehead with her palm, causing him to wince. "The story is over."

Her abrupt mood shift was familiar but something about it resonated with him. As she snuggled against him, he thought about the last time she'd delivered gifts to Fuyuki. It had caused quite a bit of trouble, but somehow the trouble—and the mystery—had lured the frightened inhabitants of the War-riddled town out again. They'd worked together to repair the damage and marvel over the gifts. Santa had helped start the town on the path of healing.

And now here he was, cuddling the warm form of one of his favorite people in front of a fireplace. She'd taken his cash reserve, but she'd given him the gift of baking, and he'd thoroughly enjoyed it under his cranky exterior. As for the chimney, well… cuddling in this exact way simply didn't work with a kotatsu, and yet she had awakened a new craving for it in him.

He tightened his arms around her, pressing his nose into her Christmas-scented hair. "I think the king does understand his subjects, and I hope his reign will be very long."

"Of course it will be," said Rider. "Now hush and let me enjoy this Christmas Eve with you."

"We're still in February..." he said quietly. She turned to him with a beautiful smile that sent his heart aflutter.

"Shirou, spending time with you makes every day Christmas for me," she stated confidently. He would have groaned had she not leaned up to kiss him. The lasting aftertaste of cinnamon and sugar paled in comparison to the taste of her lips, a gift that kept him company even as the night drew long and the fire faded to embers. When Shirou finally fell asleep in the embrace of his lover, he found that there was no amount of guilt or self-loathing that could keep out the warmth of her soul, and he was content with that.

Shirou Emiya didn't need to save anyone. He had already been saved.

* * *

You know I had to do it to 'em.

Thanks once more to the members of the Loresingers: **Aberron**, **TungstenCat**, **Exstarsis**, **Katkiller-V**, and our latest addition **KentaKazami**. Kenta has gone back and rewritten Tamamo to look a little better, and also made some changes that I would like to try to spread to the rest of the story, like removing a lot of Japanese words. Initially I was using them to try to immerse the story more in the culture of the land, but now I realize that it was clunky and awkward and made for harder reading and writing. Going forward I will be better about that.

Speaking of cats, **TungstenCat** wrote another fanfiction for this story, **Happiness is a Warm Puppy**. It's some very lovely and fluffy Shirou x Tamamo Cat smut, and I highly recommend you go check it out if you want to retain the (hopefully) WAFF you earned from this chapter.

This chapter's ending theme, in keeping with the theme of the last, is _Xmas Love_ by **SinclaireStyle All Stars**.

Thanks for reading, and from me to all of you, I wish you a Merry Christmas and a season of happy holidays.


	25. Edmond Dantes

Blood stained his sneakers; black darkened with red, white tainted with maroon. They were unrecoverable. He would have to get new ones. A small store in the market sold a nice array of shoes, owned by the second cousin of one of the ladies in class 2-C. The shop had been passed on to him from his father, and from his grandfather, and from his great-grandfather, stretching back generations to the shogunate. Shirou could be assured that there would be quality footwear there, that he would find a moment of peace and normality in that tiny hole-in-the-wall. He needed that desperately.

"_Master._"

His Servant did not have time for peace.

He had trouble looking at the body—corpse—carcass—the _thing_ because when he turned his gaze in that direction the object-that-he-refused-to-see lit on fire. It was not on fire, Shirou knew what kind of heat flames gave off. But his mind continued to lie to him. The _thing _was on fire, it said, because if it wasn't on fire then it would be alive. The only other _thing_ that had not been on fire when it wasn't alive was his father, on that sunny day that he had visited a crematorium for the first time and permanently associated not-aliveness with fire.

Shirou took one step forward, then one step back. Another step forward, another step back. His Servant appeared in a blaze of shadows.

"This is the third body this week." Avenger always spoke with a quiet intensity. "Yet we continue to wander in this labyrinth, chasing false leads into dead ends."

"They're not even trying to hide it..." Shirou thought back to the TV reports about the last victim. Despite the disconnected distance the television set had provided, the bodies would remain on fire.

"Perhaps a serial killer," said his Servant, who had his hands in his pockets, and breath that created no fog in the cold. "Or a participant who doesn't care about whose eye they catch."

"Isn't that stupid priest supposed to take care of stuff like this?" The few times Shirou had met that man's gaze, his eyes had gleamed with a malicious intent. Something inside him ground and groaned whenever that happened. He knew, deep down in his gut, that he could _never_ get along with that man.

Avenger huffed, amused.

"No, he seems to be content as a passive observer," he replied, "though with a man like him, I'm certain he has plans within plans unfolding behind our own. We'll keep a careful eye on him."

"I know..." Shirou looked up at the dark, clouded sky, frost hanging in the air and ready to fall at any moment. "I just feel like... there's too much to be looking at. The priest, this murderer, Tohsaka, that little girl..."

"Hah, if we ever get within observable distance of the child." His coat, colored in moss, shifted as his gaze drifted towards his Master. "You barely survived our last encounter. Keeping track of her might be a challenge."

"Hmph." Shirou flinched instinctively at the arrogant female voice. "Are you so quick to forget me, '_ally of convenience_'?"

He winced and leaned against the brick building, taking a deep breath before turning to the woman with the sparkling hazel eyes. It was evident that her normal amusement and cheer had been dampened-but not erased-as she came to join their gathering around the corpse.

"Shero." Even a single word from her carried a strength of will that he could never hope to match. She held herself with confidence, as if the whole world owed itself to her.

She was much too intense for him, and yet she was his only ally in this War. Though she made him shift in his stained shoes for being too dirty and poor to be around her, he somehow felt she would have his back. That he could trust her.

That didn't mean he wasn't just a tad scared of her.

"Luvia," he said by way of greeting. "What did you find out?"

Her smile pieced itself together, shard by shard. She drew a few signs in the air, pulling mana from her Crest, and the surrounding space slowly warmed to a little below room temperature. He hadn't realized how much he was shivering.

"We are following a trail in snow that is rapidly thawing," she said simply, making Shirou frown.

"Damn it... I hate this..." he said, knocking the back of his head into the bricks. He looked up once again, silently begging the stars beyond the clouds for answers.

"You are not turning out to be a particularly convenient ally, girl_._" Her grin became more strained in response to the cool voice of his Servant. Eventually she huffed and crossed her arms.

"There is not much convenience to be found in this barbaric backwater," she muttered.

"_I know, right~?_"

A shiver went down his spine as Luvia's Servant drifted into place next to her, a permanent smirk etched into her expression. He always felt like a piece of meat being judged in her eyes. It was not a good feeling.

"A country full of people so pathetic, they'd rather kill themselves than speak up to their boss for abusing their overtime." Her long purple hair swept from side to side as she spun in place, motioning with her baton as if to conduct an orchestra. "No wonder birth rates are declining! Who'd want to live in this hellhole?"

Shirou twitched. He was not much of a patriot, but he did not enjoy hearing his birthplace called a hellhole. He almost said something, but Avenger beat him to it.

"Pithy words from a wandering spirit no better than a Roma. Do not distract from the point, BB. What have you found?"

She pouted.

"You're never any fun," she announced before receding back into her usual smirk with a shrug. "Like my Master said—there wasn't much to find. The ritual circle in the slaughterhouse was smeared over with blood and dirt, so that lead is deader than the animal population of that building."

"Ruler said that he had felt... something," Luvia continued with a frown. "Something is tapping into the leylines and... warping them. They are disconnecting from the global network and... how exactly did he say it?"

"In the process of recycling themselves in a feedback loop to oblivion', or something like that," BB answered. "Basically, something's going fucky in Fuyuki~."

"This is nothing new," Avenger observed dispassionately. "Disappointing. I thought you said you were trained by a detective?"

"I-I was!" Luvia straightened and held a hand to her heart. "I worked with him on more than one occasion, I swear it! How dare you accuse me of dishonesty!"

"Such fire~," BB spoke playfully. "And what have you turned up? A couple of rocks with worms underneath? Did you enjoy your time in the playground, eating wet sand?"

Avenger growled a reply that Shirou didn't bother following. He looked back to the not-on-fire-corpse that rested there, watching them banter as its spirit suffocated on its way to the afterlife. A single cut slashed through both eyes, or what were now empty eye sockets, and scratch marks made scorching patterns on its cheeks.

"It doesn't matter," he muttered. "Accusations aren't going to get us anywhere. What's the next step we can take?"

"A formal alliance with Ruler," Avenger suggested. "He'll betray us eventually, but in the short-term I'm sure he'll understand the necessity of cooperation in this context."

"An enemy Servant that could manipulate leylines in such a drastic manner is a threat that cannot be underestimated," Luvia said quietly, "and Ruler should be included in the list of suspects. Rulers are granted exclusive powers over other Servants, and it is possible that he is attempting to misdirect us." She shook her head. "I don't want to believe it, but... I can't discount the possibility. That kind of power, even as a Servant, can get to your head."

"Thank you for such incredible insight, _Master~_." BB wrapped an arm around Luvia's neck as she smiled with all the authenticity of a rumored potential perpetual motion machine. "I'm sure that means we can trust the little shadowmaster here to be an entity of constant hatred, no? Perhaps the Saber Servant is just another honorbound samurai who will kill themselves at the slightest misstep of their silly _bushido_ ideals? Hell, maybe the Archer class actually summoned an archer!"

"Enough, BB." Luvia pulled her arm off with a frown. "We are working through this. Be useful."

"You're doing an awful job of it." The Servant glided away from Luvia and approached him. Shirou's spine went rigid as she came up from behind him and wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing her generous bosom onto him. He focused his attention elsewhere, grounding his consciousness in the splashes of blood on his shoes. "Poor Emiya over here can barely keep up with the conversation."

_Okay, that was just uncalled for._

"I'm not an idiot," he replied, trying to turn around to say it to her face. But despite her slight build, she had him locked in a tight hold. "I don't need to be babied through magecraft."

Her grip loosened only so she could pat him on the head.

"There there, _Senpai~_," she cooed. "You don't have to pretend to be cool in front of me."

"I'm not pretending to be anything!" He continued trying to pull her off his neck, but in retaliation she pressed herself even closer to him. "I just want you to stop being condescending!"

"_Enough,_" Luvia commanded.

BB sighed and finally released him. He rubbed his neck where she'd been clutching him as Luvia continued. "This is ridiculous. We can't continue to bicker out in the open like this. Shero, take us to the highest quality cafe in this boorish city of yours. After that, you will host us for dinner once more. I will not allow you to keep your extraordinary cooking to yourself and your guardian."

He groaned, putting a hand to his face. With Taiga's assistance, they had already cleaned out half his pantry last night, and now he had to do it all over again?

_She's such a damn handful._

"Fine," he replied, "but afterwards we're stopping for groceries, and you're paying for everything."

"Why, of course!" Her usual arrogant smirk, less sinister and more charming than BB's smug expression, returned. "It would be dishonorable for me not to follow the accord of _noblesse oblige_. Tell me, do you take checks? If not, I will have my accounting team wire you a sufficient monthly payment as compensation."

_I hate dealing with nobility._

"_Despite having been melded into that mass for a very long time,_" Avenger commented over their link, his tone tinged with amusement, "_I can sympathize with your feelings, Master._"

**[A hand held out, a pain held back]**

Shirou reluctantly seated himself at the table, goggling at its sweeping spiral construction. Six legs twisted counterclockwise from a white base on the floor to meet the center of the glass tabletop. From there they uncoiled themselves and reached out to the edges, holding the pristine surface up like the spindly fingers of an alien hand.

He had never been here before, only heard it mentioned by other classmates, and found himself feeling very out-of-place.

Luvia huffed from her seat across and to his left.

"I suppose this will do well enough," she said, looking around with her nose wrinkled in a way that told him she was only being polite. "I am disappointed in the distinct lack of skyline seating, but as this city lacks a beautiful skyline to enjoy, I will forgive this transgression."

"I dunno." BB smiled as she nibbled on the provided _fougasse_. "I kinda like it. For a country bumpkin, you have pretty good taste in cafes, _Senpai~_."

The way her teeth shone through that grin disturbed him. Even the astralized presence of Avenger wasn't enough to help him feel more comfortable around a predator like her. He wanted to get used to her attitude, especially since they were allies and all, but she always made him feel like he was on the verge of falling out of his chair. Or, more aptly, that he felt the shudder of fear and adrenaline that came right before one fell out of their chair.

"Uh, yeah, thanks," he replied, looking away and awkwardly scratching at the back of his head.

"You are far too underdressed for this establishment, Shero," Luvia commented with narrow eyes. "I do not like it."

"Well, you didn't exactly give me a chance to go get my formal kimono on," he said. "What was I supposed to do?"

Her gaze ran up and down his body, and he felt like a butterfly about to be pinned into her mental collection. She pondered him for a few silent moments, and he didn't think it was because of his question.

"Then tomorrow, we will be going shopping," she finally stated. "I refuse to accept that you can only dress up in a kimono. You will be getting a suit."

"I have a suit!" he protested. Granted, it was his father's, and he hadn't quite grown into it, but it was the thought that counted.

"I am certain it is not up to snuff," she countered, "so you will be the recipient of the generosity of the Edelfelt clan. Be grateful."

He mumbled some choice words under his breath but resisted replying in full. He could not argue with the fact that he could use some more formal wear.

Very soon a server came by and took their orders, which mostly consisted of tea with names he could barely recognize, though BB added in a croissant. After he left, an uncomfortable silence ensued. Shirou wasn't sure how to break it, BB's expression spoke of how much she enjoyed his squirming, and Luvia was looking at the wall behind him, seemingly lost in thought.

"How can you... warp a leyline?" he asked after he couldn't take the quiet anymore. "Isn't that something that's plugged into the world?"

"I don't have a good answer for you." Luvia's gaze dropped to meet his own again. "You're right, leylines are equivalent to the magic circuits of the world. To even try to move their physical location so that your rituals can be made more powerful is virtually impossible for a modern magus. If Ruler was telling the truth, then the perpetrator must be a Servant. No one else could have the skill or power to do so."

"_You are forgetting the very real possibility of something far worse,_" Avenger commented, his voice drifting from the shadows that danced on the wall next to them. "_Fuyuki may be hosting a Dead Apostle Ancestor. I have dealt with their kind before. This is not outside of their abilities, though it requires a great deal of blood._"

"I see why you think so, Avenger," Luvia replied, "but the leyline warping, as Ruler described it, has progressed quite quickly. I would say far too much so for the relatively low amount of murders to provide the amount of blood needed to power such a ritual. But it is something to keep in mind—we cannot discount any potential suspects when we know so little."

She bit her cheek as she looked at the table again, interlacing her fingers with each other as she put her hands in her lap, subconsciously straightening her posture.

"But, ultimately, why...?" she mumbled. "By his account, the leylines are being _disconnected_. That robs them of their access to the global well of mana, disempowering them completely. If the culprit wished to halt the Grail War entirely, that is a dramatic but effective way to do so. But if that were the case why wouldn't they stop at just the disconnection? Why are the shape of the leylines being changed? _Whydunit..._?"

"And really," BB cut in, her tone uncharacteristically serious, "if it isn't one of those stupid vampires, how do we explain the serial murders? Which Servants could even be summoned that power their rituals with human sacrifices? Or is there no link between them, and we're actually dealing with two separate entities...?"

"If that's the case," Shirou said, "then we have to go after the serial killer first. They can't be allowed to keep killing while we're out investigating."

"Shero, I don't know why someone would do anything as drastic as disconnecting the veins of mana if they weren't planning something _bad,_" Luvia tapped her fingers on the glass to emphasize her point. "Something that could possibly endanger the entire population of this city. As awful as it sounds, we must prioritize the leyline problem. If you want to save the most amount of people, you have to let some others go."

His fists clenched around the silverware in front of him.

"I—"

"_Master, be careful,_" Avenger interrupted. "_The little Einzbern just entered and is coming your way. There's an emergency exit near the restrooms._"

Luvia paled and BB frowned.

"Damn, and I didn't even get my croissant yet," the Moon Cancer pouted.

"Oh, don't worry, this won't take long."

Shirou's blood froze at the childlike voice. The small girl approached their table, accompanied by a server who carried another chair, and her Servant, a tall woman with long black hair, dressed in the most elegant of kimonos. The girl, Illya if he remembered correctly, waited patiently as the server placed the chair down and bowed, walking away. Her crimson gaze swept over them.

"Well?" she asked quietly. "Aren't you going to make some room?"

No one moved for what felt like hours. Finally, Shirou scootched his chair somewhat closer to BB to make a little more room for Illya. Luvia sent him a glare. When he shrugged, she sighed and shifted over to open up some space.

"Thank you." Illya curtsied and sat down.

"You're welcome," he replied, finding it within himself to project a small smile. Her eyes flicked up at him, neutral in intent, before settling back down to the other two.

"_Keep one leg out of the table,_" Avenger spoke over their mental link. "_Be ready to run. I'll distract them._"

Shirou was glad that he was supported by a Servant like Avenger, but he committed himself to engaging with Illyasviel. He wouldn't run. It was his duty to take the burdens of others upon himself; their feelings towards him were unimportant in this regard.

"You are not very good at covering up your tracks, onii-chan." She kicked her legs in an imitation of a little girl. "Anybody could have pursued you guys, and given how well you dealt with Berserker the other night, splitting up would have spelled the end for one or both of you. You should feel lucky that it was me trailing you."

Her smile was both the aged wisdom of a mother and the bright energy of a child.

"What do you want?" Luvia almost growled.

"Want?" Illya echoed, looking up to the ceiling with a finger on her chin, the picture of childish innocence. "Well, I want a nice bubble bath, as I found out that I didn't have anymore of the special soap that I like. I want to check out the water park in the town across the river, I've heard it's really fun. I want to see onii-chan's body torn to pieces, though I want his head intact so I can torture him for the rest of my life. Oh, and I think I want some nice ginseng tea."

She looked back to him, her smile somewhat more menacing.

"I know that, at the very least, I can take care of one of those things while I'm here."

Shirou shivered, a fear that he wished he wasn't able to feel locking down his larynx.

"Man, it's sad that a cute kid like you is so screwed up in the head," BB said with a sigh. "You should be enjoying playdates at your age, not plotting to murder someone."

"Yeah, well, we don't always get what we want in life, do we?" the Einzbern snapped back without looking away from Shirou. "Tell me, onii-chan, did you have a happy childhood? Did Papa take good care of you? Were you allowed to feel safe and secure?"

_the stench of burnt wood burnt cement burnt flesh it burnt him it burnt him it hurt it hurt it hurt it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts_

"_Breathe._" Avenger's voice pulled him out of the waking nightmare. "_Stay in the present. Don't lose focus._"

"Yes," he said quietly. "He wasn't always around, but when he was, I felt... okay."

"You did, hmm?" She put her elbows on the table and leaned forward on her hands. "You're so lucky! I envy you so, so, so much."

The way her eyes accused him of a thousand crimes underscored the sincerity in her voice, driving and twisting a knife into his heart.

"Why...?" he whispered. "What happened to you?"

"_This kind of woman is not uncommon,_" Avenger interjected. "_There's a story behind every smile. Reaching out is futile. All she'll do is sharpen your olive branch into a wooden dagger to stab you in the back."_

Her vicious expression flickered.

"Get to the damn point, _Einzbern,_" Luvia's fists clenched, and she looked ready to lunge over the table to hit the little girl across the face.

"Hmm," Illya repeated as she turned to his ally, her mocking smile returning. "Did I really have a point coming here? Maybe I just wanted to see you all squirm. Or maybe I wanted to distract you all while Berserker silently kills everyone else in the building? Hmm... I'm not so sure anymore. As soon as I saw onii-chan's stupid face I kinda forgot what I was thinking about."

"_She's lying,_" Avenger said. "_We know that Berserker can split herself up into multiple copies, but I would be able to tell if she did. There's only one of them and she's standing right there. Don't be afraid. I won't let anything happen."_

"Well then, you've said your piece." BB waved a hand in the general direction of the door. "Feel free to leave. We'll be okay without you."

The little girl looked at the Servant and Shirou felt the hairs on the nape of his neck stand up as the tension increased. Despite Avenger's assurances, he was getting worried that if something were to happen, there would be people that he couldn't protect. He couldn't allow that. Illya still needed to be saved.

"Illya..." he said, and she glanced at him. "I understand that you want to kill me."

"No, no, that's not quite it," she said, scorn filling her voice. "I want to _hurt_ you."

"_She'll never get the chance,_" Avenger said, and out of the corner of his eye Shirou could see the shadow of Illya sitting on her chair darken somewhat. But the Servant behind Illya's chair shifted, too. If Shirou didn't do something, it would all go bad, very quickly.

"That's okay." He nodded in acceptance. "If you need to hurt me, you can, but I have to do something important first. I just need you to wait a little while. I won't run away, but what's going on in this city could hurt or kill a lot more people than it already has. I need to stop it so that no one else dies. Once I do so, though, you can hurt me as much as you like for as long as you like, I swear it."

Her stare turned more and more incredulous as he spoke, both baffled and amazed. When he finished, a pregnant pause hung in the air.

"Wow, onii-chan, I'm impressed," Illya stated after a few moments. "Either there's something fundamentally wrong with you, or you have a lot more guts than I expected." She giggled. "Well, either way, I suppose I'll find out how much guts you really have eventually. Sure, I'm okay with that. I'll know if you leave the city, and if you don't come to me soon enough, I will find you and _end_ you, then and there."

He nodded again.

"That's fine," he assured her. "I'll take care of my business. My life will be yours soon enough."

Her eyebrows rose a hair higher.

"Good, I'm counting on it," she said, and then pushed herself away from the table to stand up again. "I'll see you soon, onii-chan!" She waved as she walked away, Berserker bowing and following her.

"Goodbye," he replied, giving a little wave in reply. As she left the building, he turned back to his companions to find the most poleaxed expressions he had ever seen on their faces. Well, that was mostly Luvia. BB looked like she had just seen a tree uproot itself to move closer to a nuclear reactor in the middle of a meltdown. He couldn't feel anything from Avenger, almost disconcertingly so, as he had been getting used to the sense of the Servant's presence in his mind.

"What?" he asked uncertainly. "What did I say?"

* * *

Dantes's saga will be, along with Mash Alter's, one of the most unique, I think. In particular, I am aiming to make this completely deviate from the track of a normal Grail War, and instead unfold more like a mystery/detective story. It's going to be a lot of fun. I hope you guys will stick with me through it.

I couldn't have written this chapter without the help of my Loresingers: **Aberron**, **TungstenCat**, **Exstarsis**, **Katkiller-V**, and **KentaKazami**. In particular, **Exstarsis** provided such valuable insight into Dantes's character and persona and encouraged me to flesh this out further than I had originally felt I could take it. I've mentioned it before, but she writes a Dantes/Nightingale romance story called _The Star and the Darkness_ that, if you are interested in seeing more of your favorite edgelord, I highly recommend you go check out.

So apparently I infected **TungstenCat** with some kind of sexy nun virus, because she ended up posting another Kiara-related one-shot called _Martagon Lily_. As a bishop for all things related to our Beast and savior, I am obligated (and delighted) to urge you to go read it. Another quality piece of work.

**KentaKazami** once more did me a great favor and rewrote Tamamo 2, so I recommend you go check that out. Sakura gets a little less bullied (and yes, I am sorry for having done it the first time).

Your ending theme for this chapter is _The Kreisau Circle_ by **Mick Gordon**.

Thanks for reading, and see you in the new decade.


	26. Julius Caesar

Disclaimer: Caesar in _The Saga of Shirou's Summons_ adheres much more to traditional Western standards of handsomeness than his depiction in Fate/Grand Order. If this causes you some kind of distress, you are welcome to skip over this chapter.

* * *

From the moment he met the boy, he could tell that he attracted danger. A man in blue was carving him into ribbons, and while he had seen many a young man die, this was different. At his core, he knew that this boy _needed_ to live. So, he did what any good man did when given a target. He charged into action. Just as quickly, the man leapt out of his range, carefully sizing him up in the process. The fact that the man was capable of dodging his blow confirmed to Caesar that his opponent was indeed a Servant. "Oh ho ho," he chuckled, "you have brought your death upon you, Servant! For now is the time I shall crush you."

"Look out!"

Caesar glanced back with a wicked smile. "Oh, I know, my boy. We are going to be the _best_ of friends soon. But first, this interloper must be dealt with. Lancer, I presume?" Indeed, he had to presume, as looking back to the boy had allowed his opponent to land a glancing blow, cleaving some skin from his cheek. Fast little bastard.

"Damn! If I had been a bit faster, you would've died just like the kid was supposed to." Lancer replied bitterly. "What the hell are you supposed to be, anyways?"

Caesar considered. "Your worst nightmare." He grinned. "I am a God given flesh, I am the man who conquered the world and the world could not see his vision!" He drew his sword, the blade glowing brightly. "I am the apotheosis of man's aspirations!" He stood a little taller than the other Servant, and he leaned his head forward as if looking down upon him. The garland upon his brow glittered in the light.

The Lancer did not take kindly to being looked down on, and responded to the taunt with another strong swing. Caesar could always measure a man by the way he would speak, fight, and most importantly, use his feet. It said everything about their preferences. He could dodge for now, but he needed an offensive option. He did not waste time with his weapon. He was not going to be swayed by words. No, only one language would speak to this man in this moment.

"Your Noble Phantasm is really something." Lancer commented with a smirk. "But it won't be enough. Prepare yourself, _Roman_." Oho, the Servant could tell that much. Perhaps the trappings and crown were too much. But in that moment, he could see what the Lancer was doing. He hooked his foot into the back of his spear, and the head glowed a bitter red. "Gae Bolg!"

His master had provided him a pitiful amount of mana. Not enough to be able to activate his Noble Phantasm. Not that he used very much mana, anyways. "You're one of those little Celt children!" Caesar derided. "Bring in your spear, boy! Let's see if it can harm my divine person!" He positioned his sword defensively, but it lacked its normal luster and beacon of victory. He saw the spear coming,

Oh the spear did hurt. It very much did. A bad gamble on his part. The Servant had called his bluff. Caesar took the hit, his armor and partial divinity saving his life. Crocea Mors wouldn't have even blocked the damn thing. But when he rose, muscles rippling and chest firm, he could see the utterly shocked look on the Lancer's face.

"Are you a Roman God?" The Lancer asked cautiously. If his legend was correct, the boy grew up in the generations immediately after his brutal domination of his little islands.

"Your spear has failed, little Celt. My thumb is entertained by your cheek and actions. If you leave now, I won't come for you. You've made me draw my sword, at least. You'll need to do something more to make me use it." He raised the blade, angling the untouched weapon towards the spearman. "So sayeth Gaius Julius Caesar."

"My Master is forcing me to withdraw. But this isn't over." Lancer grimaced, stepping back and hopping towards the wall. "We'll meet again, Roman!"

"I broke your entire coalition with one personal duel and four battles. What makes you think it will turn out different this time?" Caesar called after him. "Our first battle ends now, but I will be surprised if you can do better than Cassivelaunus!" The Lancer retreated, and Caesar only laughed. At least until he was sure the man was gone, and then he spat out a gob of blood. "Alright, my boy. You've done it. You summoned me," taking a look at the man who was his master. "You may call me Saber, though I am the Heroic Spirit Gaius Julius Caesar."

He was broad of shoulder and tall. He appeared resolute, and did not shy away from battle. The redheaded young man looked up at him with the utmost confusion. "What's going on? Why did he attack me?!"

_Ah. This might take some time to resolve. _

**[Sleight of hand finds a slighted man]**

Such was his first night of the Holy Grail war. The morning after contained much less confusing things. The boy was attending an academy. He would be there until late into the evening. "Master, would you mind terribly if I went exploring through town? I would be happy to meet with you once your educational requirements are met."

"I'm a bit worried about you looking out of place. You don't look like you can slip into a crowd."

"My boy, I know you have your job once schooling is complete. It would comfort me to at least assist you in that. Every moment you spend alone and away from other people is a moment where other Servants and Masters can target you."

"This Grail War is only supposed to happen at night when everyone is asleep, right?"

"Boy!" He gently gave his brain a nudge. With a ham fist. "Were you not nearly executed yesterday before the sun was down completely?" His tone grew soft. "I have fought wars and battles aplenty, my boy. But even I was killed in broad daylight by the men who I once considered kin. I will see you at your school once all others have gone away."

"Alright, Saber." Shirou finally relented. "Just be careful, alright?"

"I am the man who conquered the known world and left a mark upon it so strongly that even in these far off places you recognize it. I will be careful, for both our sakes." He paused, raising an eyebrow in thought. "What exactly are you learning in this academy, hmm?"

"Archery, math, economics, philosophy, history." Shirou considered. "You know, normal stuff." Caesar considered that the stuff of expensive Greek tutors. Normal, indeed.

"I will visit a library and see what history your modern world considers worth learning. These academies sound like the place armies could be made." Caesar sighed in wonderment. "I look forward to seeing it."

"Just be careful." Shirou re-affirmed his concerns as he left for school.

Oh, he was careful. He spent the entire day watching over Shirou's little school. He had a feeling that other Servants were, too. There was definitely one near the middle of the district, passing through. He could feel the charge in the air, and the wind dying. The scent of ash on the wind, the precursor to a dangerous meeting. He wasn't capable of presence concealment, and he didn't particularly care to hide himself anyways. So, he went looking. He was dressed like any other man on the street. Other than his hair and physique, he fit in along with everyone else. He saw her at the same time that she saw him. She was at a cafe, reading a book. Supposedly. He knew that she had him in her sights. If this were indeed an Archer he was approaching, he would have been dead long before he could see them.

And see her he could. A beautiful woman, standing out from the crowd. She had purple hair that trailed to her ankles, and a comfortable outfit on. Some reading glasses adorned her face, and her eyes were far from human. There was no way she could simply disappear into a crowd like he could, though in his current class, that wasn't particularly likely for him either. "Wait, please." He said, holding up his hands. "I only wish to talk." The woman was about to stand, and he didn't want conflict. Not yet.

She did not appear even the slightest bit interested in his presence. "Tell me what you want." A cold hearted beauty, indeed. Her voice offered no warmth or playfulness. Certainly not like his dear Cleopatra.

"My master believes that this war does not need to involve the deaths of civilians and innocents. He believes in an idyllic and fantastical world where the war will be fair and honorable. He was already targeted for killing by a Servant before he summoned me." He glanced at the still clenched arm of the other Servant. "Where are my manners? May I sit down?"

She nodded. The moment he did so, she stood up to leave. "Would you give up the advantage so soon, my lady?" She stopped at that. "By my sire, Venus herself, I swear to provide you information."

"You see me as a tool." She said coldly. "To use and cast aside."

"If I wanted to take you into a love hotel, my lady, you would already be ensorcelled and in bed with me." He said, never doubting it in the slightest.

The other Servant twisted her head, hair tumbling like snakes through the air as she matched eyes with him. Her gaze promised death, and Caesar was fairly certain that he didn't want to play those odds any further. Her reply was a hiss between her teeth. "No more words."

"Not even the identity of Lancer?"

"Not even then."

"Then I most certainly hope we do not come into conflict, my lady. I won't apologize for my words, but I do not mean harm. I only intend to trade information. As Servants, we are asked to do many hard things, or things we do not agree with. I just wanted to assure you that my master means to keep the rules of the war, and to assure you that I mean to win."

The Servant waited, considering her words carefully. "Mine does not intend to keep the rules. Do not approach me again."

Caesar hummed a song in his head as the spectacular woman left. "Truly, I am a lover of women." He chuckled. "Oh, but she is not worth the might of Rome, not in the slightest." He bought something from the small cafe, enjoying the flavor of the modern world as he sipped from the porcelain cup. "Oh, how I love my home. Perhaps a visit to a library is in order."

His Master was in for a very tough war at this rate. Ah, well. Two down, four to go. One of these Servants would have a weakness to exploit. There was no way of hiding his own identity and he didn't prefer to. His enemies were heroes in their own right, but he very much doubted that they had conquered the world. Unless Alexander the Great himself were on the battlefield, he had no doubt to his success. With that on the mind, he ambled his way towards the school. Wearing the suit and tie of any business man, he passed by dozens of youths without even a glance. It felt odd to not be recognized on every street corner by one and all.

"Saber?" Shirou asked him. "What are you doing?" The young man was leaning out one of the second story windows above him, and his whispers were that of a farmboy. They could carry. Rather than have a conversation in the open, he stepped inside the school. Shirou met him in the pleasant location. If he had academies like this in Rome for the training of his troops, he could only imagine what kind of legions they would have been able to make.

"Coming to meet you, my Master." He said with a smile. "I've been through your town and it was delightful. The local sights are well worth seeing."

"Fuyuki City isn't known for—" Caesar interrupted that with laughter.

"Oh I was not talking about those sights." He sighed pleasantly. "They will be coming out of chests and rugs for you. I can already tell." He said, chuckling.

"Who will?"

"_Women_." He had to emphasize for the young man. "When your heart begins to—"

Shirou pushed his way past Caesar to a cabinet full of cleaning supplies. "I do _not_ want to have a conversation about that with you."

Caesar couldn't help but laugh. It was long and loud. "Oh, my boy! You sound like one of my nephews. I like that about you." He took one of the mops that Shirou had grabbed, and began the work that his master did in this place. Together, they mopped and cleaned the surfaces of the school with vigor. It was companionable, at least. When they finished mopping the main level, Shirou took him aside to show him a small red seal, carved on the bottom of a pipe.

"Do you know anything about bounded fields, Saber?" Shirou asked him, looking curious. He tried to give him a serious look back, but a small chuckle bounced from his lips.

"Sadly, you have not summoned a Caster, boy. I know very little, simply that we should avoid them if possible. Magic was never my forte, though I can defeat almost any foe that we may face."

"Rin says that these are designed to kill people, to drain everyone at school so that a Servant can be more powerful." He looked at Caesar with some concern. "Did you make this happen?"

"I do prefer intrigue as a killer instead of the sword, it is true. But in this case these creations are of no part of me. But we can use them to our advantage."

"What?! We have to get rid of them!"

"Why? That does little for you."

"Because this will kill people, Saber!"

"_Exactly_." Caesar turned the haft of the broom to face Shirou. "The threat of death is enough. It breaks the rules. Involving innocents is not allowed, but neither is it your job to enforce those rules."

"But I'm in this war!" Shirou said, eyes roving. He seemed to be thinking. "Wouldn't it weaken our enemies if we took this tool away from them?"

Oh, this boy was a good one. _The beginnings of Romulus in him, for certain._ Appealing to his sense of tactics, he said, "If we cannot trap those enemies using this tool, then it instead only becomes a trap for us. This school has turned into Cannae, my boy. Only, I cannot tell if you are Gaius Varro or Hannibal Barca." He chuckled. "No, this is just one thing. While you've been at school, I have been going over the rules of this little war we are in," he grunted as he gave the mop a jaunty push, hitting a particularly bad patch of dirt, "and I have discovered that you might be the only one keeping them."

"How?"

"_Women_." A wide grin stretched across his features. "I am a lover of women, my boy, and this one was a Servant."

Shirou was shocked. "Did you sleep with one of our enemies?"

Caesar gave Shirou a dead stare. "I am not Mark Antony, my boy. They come to me, usually. No, we simply had a conversation." He looked around, sensing that feeling that a Servant was nearby. "It appears that someone is coming."

"A Servant?" The boy had good reflexes, clutching his broom like another would a spear.

"Yes. We should greet them amicably at the front doors." Caesar marched forwards, cape flowing behind him as he let his armor appear. "Diplomacy is the first flexing of muscles between great powers followed by squabbles over water, iron and valuables in between." He let his arms spread out, rolling his shoulders. "And then when all else fails, the sword is brought down."

"Um." Shirou muttered, coming to the doors and peering out the small windows with concern. "Aren't we already at war?"

"We have yet to decide the minutiae." He stated. "But there is always time." With that, he brushed by the young man and stepped outside. The doors opened quietly, and he looked around at the grounds. The Servant had not left, indeed, they were very nearly on top of them. "Come out, come out! If you hide from our sight, we can only assume it is to deny yourself the advantage of our company!" Caesar threw out his hands, palms open.

Shirou seemed skeptical. He was right to be so. A knife came flying out of the forest, and would have impaled Shirou through the arm. Odd that someone would aim to disable and not kill. "Behind me!" He belted, yanking the blade from the boy's arm. It had a chain on it, which he _pulled_. The other end of that chain came into view immediately. She was wearing black, and had a cover over her eyes, but it was the long purple hair to her ankles that evoked a response. "We meet again, my lady!" He grinned, as she came to a stop a few meters away.

She didn't bother replying, pivoting her feet and bringing the other end of the chain around. It never got the chance to hit Shirou. He stomped on it, pinning both sides of her weapon. "Tch."

"Come closer, mm? Rome itself would give you its mercy and friendship." Caesar let his free hand drop to his belt. To his sword, which he set his hand upon the hilt. "Or its judgement." He stood, waiting as the beautiful woman waited with him. "We can talk this out, of course. But if you make me draw my sword, this duel will be as good as over."

She tried to retrieve her weapon, and it became a question of strength. He flexed as he set his position, the chain unyielding. His arms and legs were sliced by the thrashing metal, but he held on. If this got free, it might hurt Shirou. He couldn't allow it, not when he barely had enough mana to draw his sword. A few cuts and wounds were well worth it to keep his Master alive. The metal post it was connected to bent, but held. She gave up after a few seconds, as he gave an arrogant smirk. He _was_ stronger than her. But not by much.

"If you promise to never challenge us again, and do me one favor, I will agree to not report you to the rest of the Masters for breaking the rules." Caesar said. "My master believes in mercy." And he himself believed that one man's enemy was someone else's ally.

The woman stopped pulling, glancing back into the forest she emerged from. "We shall retreat." She finally acceded.

"Take a single step back and I shall report you and your fool of a master to the church." Caesar threatened. "We have already seen the seals you have begun to establish. As they are, you plan to use this place as a battleground. But if you are not the heroic individual I assume, you would use this to kill hundreds of children. Innocents that can hardly be considered safe."

Shirou stepped out slightly, voicing his own opinion. "I've already been attacked here by a Servant. If you want to prove your intentions aren't evil, show yourself." His master was a good one. A damn good one. "We don't need to resolve everything with violence. We both summoned heroes, after all."

There was movement by the trees, as another student made their way forwards. It was another boy, though, unlike his master, this one was less fit. He reminded him of Crassus, particularly the amusing way his face would skew when he was angry. "I'm _not_ a coward. Emiya, I didn't know you were a master in this war." The tongue of a manipulator was clearly present, snake-like in his words.

Caesar turned to Shirou with a look at his wounds. He still stood strong. "Shinji." Shirou's tone grew richer with emotion. "Are you trying to kill people?"

"How are you a mage, Emiya?" The aforementioned Shinji deflected the question entirely. "How many generations does your family have viable?"

"I'm adopted, Shinji," Shirou mentioned, "and I don't know. We are both masters in this war, though. That's what matters. It's good to know I have a friend in this war. But I need to know why you're putting these in the school." Shirou paused to think. "I just know these kill people."

Judging from the look on Shinji's face, the friendship was not pure. But it was not his place to question the judgement of his master. "I come from a very old mage family, Emiya. If you work with me, then we can bring down anything that comes before us." A sly smirk wormed its way onto the boy's face. "You can trust me. My family has always been part of these wars, though we haven't yet won." Shinji seemed to relax, expressing himself openly. "I'm sorry about the bounded field. It's only a weapon of last resort, and the school is the only place I could think that I would have an advantage."

Shirou relaxed. "Okay, Shinji. Come on Saber, we can trust them. He's one of my best friends." With a grimace, he let the chain go, as it drew back to its very pleased owner. "We need all the help we can get if we want to stop people from dying."

Caesar took his bleeding hand off of his belt, sighing in relief. "So long as we get your arm bandaged up, Master, I will be pleased enough." He clapped a hand over Shirou's shoulder. "Any friend of yours is a friend of mine." He looked down upon the boy Shinji. He matched his smile with one of his own. It was the same smile that he gave Pompey when the man brought news of his daughter's death. "You are a most welcome ally, Shinji Matou." And he would be, until Caesar knew enough to decide if he would serve under Shirou's boot or die.

As they walked forwards, he swore he could smell the salty sand of Alexandria on the wind.

* * *

This chapter was written by **Aberron**, so he has the following to say:

"Caesar is very far from home, but please do remember that as a young boy Caesar convinced an entire pirate faction to hire him as their leader instead of ransom him. The man represented by Nasuverse is a perverse shadow of what his real self should be..."

This one has been in the wings for a while. Like Abe said, Caesar has been done a great, great injustice at the hands of the writing team at DelightWorks (as so many have!), so he took it upon himself to realize his historical self as it should have been known. As always, thanks to my wonderful team of Loresingers for their help.

Today's ending theme is _War & War_ by **Keigo Hoashi** and **Keiichi Okabe**.

Thanks for reading.


	27. Tamamo-no-Mae 4

"Here you go, darling."

Shirou took the offered hot mug of tea with a grateful smile and set it on the porch floor next to him, careful not to disturb the two fox kits sleeping in between his legs as he did so. Steam wafted up from the cup, enticing him with its suggestions of heat and happiness, but he knew how these liquids lie. They would seduce you into attempting to partake in your beverage, and then they would burn your tongue in a sadistic outburst, laughing as you frantically tried to soothe the scar.

"I'm onto you..." he muttered, staring at the supposedly-innocent mug.

"Eh?"

Caster was giving him a bemused look as she sat down next to him.

"Nothing, don't worry about it," he assured her, shaking his head gently. She shrugged and moved as close to him as possible without disturbing the cubs, and leaned her head on his shoulder.

"Are you cold?" she asked, her tail coming around to press against his back.

"Not very," he replied, but at the same time allowed her tail to wrap around his upper chest.

"Please don't hesitate to use my tail as a comforter," she smiled easily, "and you're welcome to fluff it as much as you like."

Shirou meant to refuse, but his hands in turn refused to obey him, and soon he was running them through the soft fur. It was an action without thought. In fact, it removed all higher thought capacity from his head. For a few minutes, he genuinely blanked out, nothing but the soft snores of the fox kits providing sensory company.

Finally, a light gust of cold wind brought him out of the haze, and he drew her tail closer to him without thinking about it.

"My my," his Servant teased, "so aggressive."

"Cold," he corrected bluntly. He continued to hold onto the appendage with one arm while using the other to pick up the tea mug and bring it to his lips. He was disappointed to find that it had cooled down beyond even lukewarm, grumbling quietly as he took one small cold sip.

"This is why you don't wait so long," Caster said as she took the cup from him. She exhaled onto the mug, and he could see it begin to steam again. His jaw almost dropped as she held it back out.

"Why don't you just do that all the time?" he asked as he took it in his hands and sipped carefully. It was the perfect temperature. If he could do magecraft like that...

"Because overheating will kill the taste," she said. "I find that the tea leaves come through best if you heat it and then let it cool down naturally."

"Damn it," he muttered, his eyes moving back to the light snowfall beyond the porch.

"Why, were you thinking of cooking with that?" Laughter bubbled under her words with only the faintest restraint holding it back.

"...maybe." He looked to the side, abashed. _That_ was what caused her to laugh, though she covered her mouth so that it wouldn't wake the kits. He huffed as she tried to keep her quiet, continuing to fluff her tail with one hand and lightly petting one of the pups, scratching at their head.

He sniffed, and a snowflake brushed his nose, making his nose itch and causing him to chamber a sneeze.

_Crap._

It came very close to release, and he held his nose against his elbow to muffle it down as much as possible. Unfortunately, it disappeared without much fanfare, and the tension was left unresolved. He sighed and sniffed again.

"If you're getting sick, I know of some nice herbal remedies..."

He shook his head.

"I never get sick," he said. "Not like most people, at least."

"You're very lucky, then." She leaned a little more into him. "When I was alive, people getting sick was either the work of the _kami_, or just a simple death sentence. Herbal remedies were about all we had..."

She sighed.

"And prayers too, I suppose. Though what good's a prayer if—"

The way she stopped the sentence so abruptly made him look at her, but she wasn't even turned for him to see her eyes.

"If what?" He prompted.

"Nothing," she said quietly. "Don't worry about it."

_Emotional Intelligence_, though a difficult but interesting read, gave him absolutely no help on how to actually understand others better, least of all the complex mindset of his Servant. He understood that, despite how intimate Caster was being in trying to integrate so deeply into his life, she had a lot of things to hide. She did not like to talk about her history. She liked to brush off or deflect those questions with a smile, perhaps a little flirting. He wasn't really good at reading people, but even he got the message.

_Don't cross this line._

Perhaps he could add a 'yet' there. But he didn't want to push her beyond what she was comfortable with. He just allowed himself to enjoy her affections. Normally, that would make him very uncomfortable, because someone like him didn't deserve to be attended to like she did. But it seemed to him like she needed this... like if she threw herself as hard as she could into attending him, she could feel okay.

This... felt like the path to saving her.

"Okay," he replied, and left it at that.

Once more they were left to watch the snowfall in silence, apart from the small sips he took from his tea. It was refreshing, rejuvenating his weary bones. It felt like some kind of... passive Reinforcement. No, wait, that was just his imagination. It really was just some nice tea.

Draining the mug, he placed it aside and rested his hand on his knee. He felt her hand slide onto his, and she interlaced her fingers between his own. He decided not to make a note of it, letting her take what she needed from him. He certainly didn't mind the softness of her hand, or the warmth of her skin. Her tail lightly rested across his shoulders like a scarf, and he found it far too easy to let his head fall to one side and rest. But he chose to stay awake.

"What do you wish for?" he asked.

"On the Grail, you mean?" She turned and tilted her head, a bit of weariness showing on her face.

"No," he said, "In general. You were... you were a person once, right?"

"Why, Master," mock offense filled her voice, "are you saying that your wife currently _isn't_ a person?"

"No, no, that's not what I meant!" He scrambled to pull his hand away to surrender physically as well as verbally, but she latched onto it further and pulled him towards her, laughing. The fox kits on his lap snorted and huffed awake, complaining at the excitement. With one hand she pet each of them in turn, cooing softly.

"I know," she said after having comforted the last one. "You really just make it too easy to tease you, darling~."

He felt his ears steaming and his cheeks flush with embarrassment.

"I'm just trying to ask an honest question here..." he mumbled.

"Mmm." She looked out to the horizon, the dimming light of the sunset painting the sky with thick strands of purple and orange, and then released what felt like decades of weariness out with a sigh. "What do you think it is?"

Shirou's first impulse was to say that she clearly needed a partner in life she could latch onto, but that thought did not stay with him for long. It was too obvious, and if he spit that out... it would feel insulting to her somehow.

He followed her gaze out to the sunset.

"Do you want to be real again?"

Her smile aged in a flash, and her hand let go of his. He felt a little colder without it.

"You're smarter than you look," she said offhandedly.

"I'm going to choose not to be offended by that," he replied in good humor, but wasn't responded to in kind. A silence hung in the air, and suddenly Shirou wished he had some windchimes or another provider of ambient sound to help fill the space.

"Incarnation," she murmured, the words flowing through her lips like a small breeze. "It's not complicated, so I hope that makes it easier to come true. A Heroic Spirit is... something like being halfway between dream and reality, you know?"

She started to turn toward him, but stopped mid movement, keeping her hands in her lap.

"That first moment you have after waking up from a pleasant dream, still thinking it's true," she continued, "like the world is covered in a veil of fantasy. Nothing that I do is real or permanent. I get to live again for a few weeks at best, and then nothing more. I..."

Her voice trailed off. He gave her time to recover her thoughts. The fox kits awoke once more, quietly getting up and nudging at her thighs. She absently pet them.

"I have always felt more spiritual than heroic," she said after a time that they spent staring at the snowfall. "I did some things I'm ashamed of, some things that left me... well, I find myself wanting to try again. I want another chance, and this time I want to not screw it all up."

"An all-encompassing guilt," he muttered as waves of memory washed over him, "something you can't ever let go of."

She huffed and leaned on his shoulder again, letting her head rest on his collarbone. He hoped it was comfortable for her.

"You're not using magecraft to read my thoughts, are you?" she said with the lightest traces of jest in her voice.

"Even if I could," he replied, instinctually wrapping an arm around her shoulders, "I wouldn't."

"Mm."

He let the easy silence fall down onto them. He didn't want to push her beyond where she was emotionally comfortable.

"There was someone else before you," she said. "A woman, no, really a girl. She was around your age. She didn't talk much, but somehow I could always read her thoughts just from her facial expressions. She..." A shuddering breath. "She accepted me. It's hard to explain. I didn't have to... try around her. It all came so naturally, supporting her and fighting for her and... l-loving her."

She unwrapped herself from him and placed her hands on her knees.

"She's gone now," she whispered. "In the end I couldn't do anything, and now she's gone. Like another dream, like every other hope and wish I ever had, she's gone. I don't even know if those memories were real. Do you know what that's like, Shirou?"

When her gaze met his, he thought he could see the wounds on her heart through her eyes.

"I can't even trust myself," she continued. "I can't even be certain if this Grail War is real, or if it's just another simulation, or if it's the dream of a sleeping god, or... just words on a page for someone to read."

Her small chuckle had no humor in it.

"Wouldn't that be funny?" She leaned her forehead on her hands, her voice becoming more and more choked. This was becoming painful to watch. "Wouldn't it be hilarious to just be characters in a story that a few people read? Not even a famous book that people pass around and discuss for decades, but a tiny transient literary moment that comes to the surface of the sea just long enough for a trivial amount of people to read before sinking again? Ha... ha..."

Her forced attempts at laughing were quickly turning into sobs.

"I just want to be real..." she whispered brokenly. "I just want to mean something again..."

He couldn't take it anymore. He wrapped his arms around her as tightly as he could without becoming painful and held her.

"You mean something to me," he said as he ran his hands through her hair. "You mean a lot to me. I don't know or care about whether we're real. That doesn't matter to me. As long as I can save just one more person, whether they're real or not, then I'm... fulfilling myself."

He could feel the heat of her body, the brushing of her skin against his. She turned around in his grasp, her eyes filled with tears, and cried as she pressed her face into his shoulder. He continued running his hands through her hair, and couldn't help but notice that despite how emotional she had become, the strands had not become tangled or anything else but perfection.

_Unreal._

A minute passed, then two, and then Shirou had been holding a crying woman until the sun went down. She was whispering things into her sob that he couldn't hear, though the occasional "I'm sorry" would float up to him, and he would always rub her back and tell her "It's okay." That was all he could do.

_I feel so useless._

She calmed down gradually. He wasn't sure whether she wanted to escape his hold or stay inside, but she hadn't made any indication of wanting to leave. Her arms had, at some point, moved from gripping onto his shirt to wrapping around his chest. She hadn't stopped, and so he assumed she wanted to stay there.

"You're an idiot," she said quietly.

"What did I do this time?" he replied in the same tone.

"This is the part where you lean back, and then our eyes lock, and then we kiss."

He definitely felt his cheeks flare up.

"Uh, well, I didn't really think about that?"

"It's never about romance with you, is it?" She let out the first natural laugh he had heard from her in a while and leaned back, wiping at her eyes. He let her go and she easily slipped off of him and got up, wiping at her kimono. "You did this because you wanted to help me, didn't you?"

"Of course," he replied instantly, a little puzzled. "Why else would I have?"

Her smile lit up her entire face, and it relieved Shirou to see it come back.

"Like I said," she started to walk back inside, "it's never about romance with you. I'll start working on dinner."

As the door closed behind her, a furry projectile hit Shirou straight in the nose.

"Ow! Why?!"

The offending fox kit just huffed at him, and a certain kind of frustration was communicated in that single sound.

* * *

I knew this chapter would work as a catalyst for her. I just knew it. Well, all the quartz I dumped in probably helped too. Anyway, I've described the other Tamamo chapters as being cathartic for me personally, but I think this one was a catharsis for her. I think she needed it. She's not all fluff and games, you know.

Thanks again to the Loresingers: **Aberron**, **TungstenCat**, **Exstarsis**, **Katkiller-V**, and **KentaKazami**. I've recommended all of their works in the past, and I will continue to do so. **Aberron** published a little while ago some kind of Pseudo-Servant War AU called _Pseudo Servant Madness_. I think the title says it all. Go check it out.

Your ending theme for this chapter is _Despair_ by **Yasuharu ******Takanashi****.

Thanks for reading.


	28. Mash Alter 2

Her fingers were small sickening digits that she wanted to cut off. The power that other Heroic Spirits maintained when they were placed in their class containers was nowhere to be found in her own skillset, no matter how hard she searched. Against Lancer they failed her, as they always had. Against Berserker they nearly shattered under her, because they were weak. Because _she_ was weak. Her fingernails couldn't cut through her own skin to find the sinew beneath, even though she wanted to tear it out

_piece_

_by_

_fucking_

_piece._

Even in astral form, where no one could see her, she wanted to rip their eyes out so she wouldn't see them looking at her, so they could avoid her ungaze.

_better blind than dead_

She couldn't stay inside the dining room, where her _Master_ sat so cheerfully with the two women that loved to follow him around. The pollutants of their small happiness made her want to choke and spit and be sick all over them. In a moment she was outside, on the roof of his compound. She wasn't going to bother watching out for enemy Servants. If they came, Saber would kill them. She was completely unneeded.

_never there when you are_

Saber sat in the _seiza_ position, his eyes closed and his hands resting on his thighs. His body was pointed towards the street, and he gave no reaction when she materialized on the roof. She did not bother imitating his formal posture. She let herself fall onto her behind and pulled a knee up, resting her arm on it.

She tried to use her breathing to calm herself down, listening to the violent inhales and exhales and attempting to mediate them. It didn't work. All she could think of was Lancer's stupid playful smirk and the naïve face of her Master as he tried to force his ideals onto the servant. She couldn't help but growl and clutch at her arms, clawing at them but finding herself still unable to pierce through the skin.

_still unable to make marks_

She tried to breathe again.

In

and out.

In

and out.

In

"Your restlessness is palpable."

And out in a growl as Saber's calm voice rolled over her. She spun in his direction.

"So what?" she asked, "You want to kick me off of the roof? It isn't yours to lord over."

"Nor is your Master yours to abuse," his tone remained unnaturally even, "yet you find it fit to do so nonetheless."

"_That's none of your fucking business._" She stood up fully, failing to intimidate him with her diminutive size.

"Unlike you, I wish to win this war." He finally opened his eyes, gray steel that cut into her soul. "An impossible victory if you continue to antagonize our gracious host. Are you so immature, locked in this petty hatred of yours, that you are blind to even that?"

Her spear manifested itself in response to her rage.

"You don't know me," she said quietly. "Don't act like you know why I'm angry."

A huff came from the old man, a quiet exhale of laughter.

"How is anybody supposed to," he asked, standing up in one smooth motion, inhuman in how perfectly he straightened his posture, "when you force them all away? You are a little girl playing house with a divorced marriage in the middle of a battlefield, and as such—"

Mash lunged forward with a scream, drawing her spear back to strike his side. His katana materialized, sweeping down to block the blow as if he could see one step ahead of her, but she was already countering. She twisted herself clockwise to change the angle of attack and threw the spear at his head, simultaneously lashing out at his right knee with a straight kick.

He effortlessly read her attempt to trap him, shifting his stance downwards to easily deflect the spear with the back of his sword. She moved in closer to throw a jab into his side, but her breath caught in her throat as he caught it with his elbow. Her balance was thrown off and she stumbled behind him, unable to block the thrust of his sandal into the small of her back. With but the smallest push, she careened over the side of the roof in almost cartoonish fashion. Her yell of rage echoed impotently as she bruised against the earth.

The exterior door slid open.

"Avenger?" Her idiot Master spoke in that disgustingly fake voice of his. "Are you okay?"

"_Fuck off!_" she shouted without so much as a glance in his direction, quickly recovering only to jump upwards once again. She met Saber's gaze as she rose higher than him, then flipped in the air to bring a heel drop against him. She saw his block coming, no, wait, was that his preparation for a parry?

_Damn you, stop reading my fucking moves!_

She turned herself around so that she could avoid his parry, landing a few feet away from him. The roof grumbled at her landing, but grudgingly kept itself together as she growled at the Servant.

"Your style matches you quite closely," he said, expressionless. "Immature and graceless, fitting more for a bear than a bearer of arms so precious as your own."

While he held the katana in one hand, with his other he reached behind and ripped her spear out of the roof. Small pieces of tile fell away as he beheld it, his gaze curious.

"Interesting," he commented, "a steel made from the fragments of soul—"

"Don't you _dare—_" She was already sprinting forward to take it back, but before she made it more than a few steps he had let it clatter onto the ground, sweeping his blade upwards at her. She sharply bent backwards as the sword passed right over her nose, cutting the wind in its wake, but found herself unable to stop the fist he planted in her abdomen. She coughed as the air rushed out of her lungs and hissed in pain when she landed on her spear, the spines digging into her exposed back.

His weight pressed onto her as he pushed his wooden sandal exactly where his fist had hit her. She wanted to cry out in pain, but refused to give him the satisfaction of knowing he'd hurt her even more.

"Pathetic," Saber spoke calmly, not even deigning to berate her with any passion. "You are not gifted with the enhanced characteristics that come with being a Servant. You come to a battle with no talent or training. What warped judgement do you hold that predicts a victory for you? What kind of fantasies do you dream of, I wonder?"

"Then kill me," she growled at him, the flame of her anger only stoked in the face of her weakness. "If you're so disappointed in how much of a shitty Servant I am, kill me already. Or am I some kind of punching bag for you?"

He exhaled, a condescending sound that made her want to strangle him.

"No, no, nothing like that. You're a pup that thinks its milk teeth are true fangs. I find your determination to be a slight amusement."

Saber turned his gaze to the side to see her Master clambering up to the roof, grunting in exertion. He took his foot off of her and stepped a few paces away from her. She very quickly got up and took a defensive posture towards him.

"Ah, my apologies for the ruckus, Master Emiya," he said as the boy stood up, brushing the dirt off of his jacket. "We had something of a disagreement."

"Are you two okay?" was, of course, the first question out of his mouth, the fucking _moron_.

"I am perfectly unharmed," the old man said, radiating a calm that could only come from a wizened elder. "I believe Avenger may have bruised her pride, though."

"Don't speak for me, asshole," she hissed.

"Avenger...?"

She bit back another curse at her Master, choosing instead to continue glaring at Saber, who in turn was resolutely ignoring her.

"She lacks discipline, Master Emiya," Saber said. "Every attack is instinct. She is barely any better than a rabid animal. How do you plan to work with your Servant to help us win the Grail?"

She did not give the boy a chance to respond, the fire in her veins alight with fury. One, two, three, five rapid thrusts at the old man. Not a single one hit. He dodged all but the last, using her overextension to parry her away. She readied herself for another fight.

"Avenger, by this Command Seal..."

She spun to her Master, a scream on her lips as she spotted him holding his hand up, the bloody markings making a clear statement of who ruled over whom.

"_Do not attack our allies!_"

A red pulse channeled out from his hand, and she felt the magic settle onto her. She did not try to fight it, she only stood in place for a few moments, letting the fiery fury simmer down to a cold rage. It was a different kind of burn, now. A freezing burn.

She glared at her Master.

"I hope you die in a fire," she said, and then when she remembered something from the dream cycle, her lips turned upward, "just like your parents did."

As she faded into her astral form, seeing his expression collapse into despair was the most satisfying thing she had seen all evening.

**[Steel, silenced]**

The girl ran to the shed, pretending to hold a satisfaction that lied to her. He could tell from the way her spirit exuded anger with every step she took, an anger that coated vulnerability against the harsh elements of her livelihood. She was so pathetic that he might have been able to feel bad for her, had he given enough of a damn.

_She can be molded into something worth a damn, but as is, she is barely something at all._

His gaze turned to the boy, kneeling now and stunned into silence.

_And, of course, that depends on whether her Master wishes to help her._

Saber took three steps to come forward before the boy, whose eyes wouldn't leave the tile on his roof.

"They were small words from a small woman, Master Emiya." Finally, the boy was moving, his head turning so their gazes could lock. "You cannot pay them much concern. If she does not wish to cooperate further, one seal yet remains."

_Using it, of course, means forfeiture of your place in the war. Do not be foolish._

"I... hated doing that," the Emiya boy said quietly. "I didn't want to, but she..."

"She is unstable," he stated. "She poses a risk to everyone in this household, and everyone you choose to ally with."

He paused for a moment, thinking upon how to push the boy in the right direction.

"The possibility exists that she will betray you," he continued. "Unhappy, demoralized, and undisciplined soldiers are those ripe for desertion, if not turning coat altogether. How will you face that outcome?"

"She wouldn't..." His voice was weak, pitiful. He had an easier time sympathizing for the young man, as within that soul he could see the makings of a samurai. A code of honor and righteousness he adhered to, and the strength of will to execute it. But he needed to be forged into the proper blade, and making men out of boys was something Saber was very experienced with.

"She can, and if given the opportunity while pushed too far, she will," he answered. "The seals act as hard power, a blunt hammer with which to straighten a crooked nail. But too many hammer strikes upon brittle metal will cause it to shatter at your worst moment."

He held a hand out.

"Master Emiya, I urge you to allow me to train her," he said confidently. "As she is, even were she not to betray you, she will hold you back. I will shape her into a proper warrior, a lance that you can count on to defend you and to remove all of your opponents' pieces from the field."

The boy continued looking up at him for a heartbeat. He could see in the young man's eyes a need to grab onto a ledge, a tree branch to stop him from falling into a dark hole. A little trust would go a long way here.

"This I swear upon my father's grave," he stated quietly. "My Master may be Sakura Tohsaka, but for the duration of our alliance, my blade shall serve as your blade until your lance has the strength to protect you on its own. My True Name is Munenori Yagyu, and on my honor I shall serve you as readily as I would my own Master."

With widened eyes and a sharp intake of breath, Master Emiya grabbed onto his forearm and pulled himself up by his own strength. There was some iron in his grip, and Saber smiled.

_I will see you sharpened into a fine blade, Shirou Emiya._

* * *

Kept you waiting, huh? The reception to the first Mash Alter chapter was one of the most informative, as it was the first one that I had received true negative commentary about. It took me a while to figure out _why_, but I eventually got it. As an OC, many of you are very unfamiliar with her history and background, and as such your understanding of her was solely based on the few lines of dialogue she had. I will do my best to tell her tale over the course of her arc, but the materials I based her on were mentioned in her first chapter, so if you want to find out yourself, it shouldn't be that hard. In addition, I have posted pictures of what she looks like (and, I forgot to mention, of what Caesar looks like) in my Discord. You can find the invite code on my profile or back in Kiyohime's chapter.

Once again, thanks to my wonderful Loresingers for sifting out the gold from the silt. They are **Aberron**, **TungstenCat**, **Exstarsis**, **Katkiller-V**, and **KentaKazami**. **Exstarsis** is working on a new series called _Ignis Chaldea_, a very warped and distorted version of what the normal Chaldea looks like. It's dark, sexy, and full of interesting worldbuilding. Go check it out. I would also like to recommend **nd7878**'s _Afterlife_, a story about a desperate Olga-Marie stuck in Singularity F with a dying Ritsuka who ends up calling upon the Goddess of Kur for aid. As one of the only Ereshkigal-tagged stories on FFN, it is well worth your time.

Your ending theme is _A Picture in Motion_ by **Waveshaper**.

Thanks for reading.


	29. Mephistopheles 2

He was the winter wood, an ashen coat of selfish selflessness that covered soul scars. He was the winter wood, the trill of the unmated hawk seeking solace in its emptiness. He was the winter wood, the roots of hundred-year-old evergreens that dug into drained soil, dry of nutrition and afflicted with a dearth of sustenance.

He was the winter wood, dead and cold in the bright light of dawn.

"What a sad end for a sad little boy, no?" Mephistopheles says to you, crouching down and leaning back against a tree trunk, staring at the bloody gory remnants of Shirou Emiya. "I think that neither you nor I could make the decision as to whether or not he deserved this, but nonetheless even I would say that this is not the ending he wanted."

He sighed.

"Unrestricted by the written word, by your eyes upon him, he had the ability to choose his own path... and this is where it led him." He motioned to the shards of bone that lay before him. "I am sure that some of you may throw metaphor upon metaphor upon this. You may decide that this is why he is, and always was, a stupid child. Or perhaps you say that he, the protagonist, should never have attempted to snap his puppet strings."

The sharp blue eyes meet your own.

"That is what you want, yes?" A remnant of his old playfulness managed to appear. "You like to believe that you are Shirou Emiya. It is not a matter of being an empty shell for you to fill yourself into, like that one boy in Antarctica, no. Shirou Emiya is a person, and yet, he is you—or perhaps it is more accurate to say he is the ideal you wish to become."

His empty laugh grates on your ears.

"_Justice,_" he says disdainfully. "_Saving others._ What a joke, a punchline greater than any prank I could have ever played. What a sick fantasy that he deludes himself with, a lie he covered his eyes and ears with. Not that I fault him, of course."

Finally, he stands up, and begins to circle around the decaying entrails as the sun continues to rise. Your sense of smell is stimulated in disgust as the sunlight accelerates the rot.

"The trauma that he underwent is not something that a fully-grown adult could be expected to easily recover from, you know." In his rapid stride, he hit one of the trees, but the only reaction he provided was to move aside and walk around it. "If his crutch is to destroy his self-worth to the point that the only valuable action he can commit to in his life is helping and saving others, well..."

He stopped, and his glinting white smile appeared once more.

"I can think of more than a few other traumatees who should have taken that attitude instead of engaging in systematic genocide."

His eyes turn to you with one eyebrow raised, though that stare does not last long, for Mephistopheles looks at his feet and observes that golden dust is slowly coming off of them.

"Time is, as always, short," he says, looking back to you. He motions with a 'come hither' gesture, and you cannot help but come near him. "Come. Let us see what this city can tell us."

He takes your hands in his, and the both of you stand atop a tall skyscraper.

"You remember what I said to you, I hope?" he asks without looking, walking to the edge. Golden flakes are now falling off of his legs, and his feet have all but disappeared. "About actors and their characters."

You wished that you could answer, but as always, your voice is silent.

"I am a nothing," he continues, "not a something. I was here for barely a moment, and now I am here for less than a thought. I am..."

The sunrise is blinding, and yet he stares into it unblinking. The golden dust has risen to his knees.

"I am the figment that disappears at the dawn of the next day," he says. "And in this light shall I be forgotten, and in this moment shall I not be known."

He turns to you with the first pure smile he'd ever shown.

"Goodbye, good riddance, and godspeed, dear reader."

And he was gone.

**EDIT:** He appears briefly, his face flickering.

"Oh, and one last thing," his frown is pained. "Please stop making requests. There is no muse in the world that can truly pay attention to the din that a vibrant audience creates. Please continue to be as raucous as you have been, but know that she is deaf to your pleas and cries. She can only hear the sound of her own voice."

He waves goodbye.

* * *

Yes, I am that drunk.

Thanks for reading.


	30. Julius Caesar 2

**[The dead and dying are avenged. The living can never be.]**

Shirou walked in the dim morning light with Caesar, the air heavy with dew. He could almost feel a similar weight on his soul, thrown into a corner like a used wet rag, unable to dry itself.

"I'm supposed to be a hero," he said after a long while.

"You made the right choice last night," his Servant replied.

"But I agreed to be part of their family!"

"Unfortunate circumstances, to be sure," Caesar admitted with a downturn of his lips. "But you would have died if you had disagreed. It was foolish to enter the sanctum of that old mage."

Shirou didn't answer. He just kept walking, his feet carrying him on the well-traveled path up the steps to the Ryuudou temple and past its grounds. Caesar was dressed in the long dark suit of the average Japanese businessman, though that wouldn't hold up to close inspection. He was built like a true Hero, and the suit hugged his muscles like a lover who never wanted to let go of them.

They were undisturbed this early in the morning. Caesar didn't question where they were going or why they had gone. Neither of them had slept last night.

"_I can save her!"_

Shirou shook his head at the memory. He hadn't saved her. Not then, not now, and as he was, he didn't feel like he ever could. The sound had been so clear that it still echoed in his mind. He clenched his fist, moving forwards until he came before the grave of his father. The stone was marked with kanji dedicating it to Emiya Kiritsugu.

"I should have brought him something," he mumbled. He had come without much thought. Just like his agreement with Shinji and with that ancient bastard, he hadn't thought this through. His fists tightened.

"What is your ritual?" the man asked, his tone both earnest and quiet. "Though we are summoned to your side, we Servants are only told the barest basics of this world we now share with you. Please help me understand."

"Incense is used to call to them. A sign of prayer," Shirou said, his voice thick. "But we came so early that I didn't bring the scent that we use at home. It's less personal to use something unfamiliar."

"Do you watch the smoke, or infer their response through the smoke's movements?" Caesar asked as they both stood over the slim piece of stone.

"We believe that they remain nearby. That if you call to them, they will answer and provide you wisdom," he explained quietly. "Today... I'm not sure what I'm looking for."

"_You are the adopted heir of a dead line known to slaughter the innocent and destroy the work of decades for money." _

Zouken Matou had called his father the Magus Killer. Shirou had always known that Kiritsugu was rich, that he didn't need to worry about working until after university studies. Now he found himself questioning the ethics of still holding onto that wealth, all stored in an account that was gradually earning interest.

_Blood money,_ he admitted. Was the old man right? Was the entirety of his family legacy one large mass grave? He knew that he was just imagining it but he swore that he could smell the stench of death on his jacket and he wanted to tear it off at that moment and rip it to pieces because all he could see in front of him was ashes and flames and—

"I will sit on that bench over there," Caesar stated, reminding Shirou that he wasn't alone. "I, too, wish to reminisce with my own demons. Come and join me when your father has finished speaking to you."

The Servant placed his hand on Shirou's shoulder and gave it one solid squeeze.

"Take all the time that you need."

The man's boots barely made noise as he walked along the grass and left Shirou alone with his thoughts. He took a deep breath and stared at the grave, his father's last moments replaying in front of him.

"Old man," he began hesitantly, "you always told me to be a hero... to be the best I could."

Shirou remembered walking through the doors of the Matou mansion, remembered the look on Sakura's face as he came face to face with her secret. Her whole family's secret status as mages.

"Would you have killed them too...?"

He had seen evidence of some of the things his father had done. There was an entire cabinet of passports and foreign currency in his father's room. Enough for Shirou to assume that he had gone to many places. As far as he knew, the only reason to have a false identity was if you didn't want to be caught doing something wrong. Just being a magi did not make you a criminal, after all. Shirou had been sure to ask that question when he was young.

"He said you killed your father," Shirou murmured, "but he didn't say why."

The wind that normally moved over the mountains seemed to have come to a sudden stop. Nothing moved in the graveyard, as if the world itself had become deathly silent.

"You never gave me a magic crest. You never passed on your progress. You didn't teach me about your magecraft." Shirou closed his eyes, trying to keep his breathing even. "I... think I finally understand why."

It didn't matter that his father had killed people, that he was known as the Magus Killer. It even made sense, in a way. Why they were rich, why his father never seemed to be working, and how he spent his final years at home with Shirou.

"Damn it."

Kiritsugu always talked like he was a Hero.

"Damn it."

He always told Shirou to have morals and ethical concerns, to be a man that valued life. It was because of him that Shirou believed that everyone could be saved. Because Kiritsugu had saved him from that fire!

"_Damn it!"_

Shirou knelt down just so that he could slam his fist into the grass. His forehead pressed against the cool stone.

How could he talk about saving anyone when he killed people! Why would he lie about it? Zouken said he had killed magi across the world, and all of the money that he had earned would let any lesser man retire comfortably. The same money that Shirou had saved in the bank, that he was saving for an emergency. It made him feel like his hands were stained with the blood of those who died to pay for his own life.

"Does this make me part of it all?" he asked the still air, sitting up to face the sky. Without any reply, all he could do was churn over the question. A few soft clouds passed over as the daylight began to further illuminate the graveyard.

_No,_ he finally decided.

It wouldn't because he was never shown that side of Kiritsugu. He was never part of the killings.

_But I still benefited from them._

"Something made you stop, though." Shirou brought his gaze back down, staring at the Emiya kanji upon the stone. "You stopped because of me."

He spent the rest of his life with Shirou, every last waking moment with him, teaching him what he believed still mattered.

"Why was I the reason you stopped?"

The wind moved again, caressing his cheek. It came from the mountain, and Shirou looked up to see the sun cresting. Between the warmth of the sunlight and the wind, he could almost feel as though his dad was right there with him. He took a few minutes to rest with his head against the stone before standing up once again.

Caesar was sitting at the bench, a hand on his lap as he watched birds fluttering in the morning light. He didn't say anything as Shirou sat next to him. It was almost a minute before he spoke.

"My father died in a civil war. I never got to learn from him what it meant to be a man. He wasn't buried in our family crypt either. He was burned on the battlefield with the rest of the dead." The Servant sighed. "To see you offer such honor to his grave gives me hope that your relationship was deep and fulfilling."

"That doesn't mean I understand how I'm supposed to survive this Grail war any better. I just feel..." Shirou skewed his face, trying to think about what he wanted to say. "...closer to him when I do that."

"My mother raised my daughter when her mother died. I was away from home a great deal, but they were always close in my heart. No matter how far I was from Rome, they were always held close by in my heart. My mother Aurelia would slice peaches from our orchard and dry the slices. The smell of peaches always reminds me of home." He smiled, nostalgia coloring his expression. "Even this half-life of mine gives me that joy."

Shirou found himself speechless. For a long time he just sat and closed his eyes, trying to process the alternating waves of anger and sentiment.

"Do you think I made the right decision? Joining the Matou family?"

"If you didn't, you would have died," Caesar pointed out. "The old mage had you inside of his home. Servant Rider was in the room, and she is nearly as strong as my divine form. Perhaps she herself has a touch of divinity..." He paused for a moment before nodding. "Between her and the magi we were no better than a Persian in Greece."

"Uh..." Shirou gave Caesar a puzzled look. "What do you mean?"

"You don't understand the world of magic. Those magi could cast the spellcraft and understand the connotations in a way that you could not. Persians are, or were, notorious for not learning the languages of their foes. They would rather bribe their way to victory. In this case, you entered the home of a powerful potential foe with nothing but friendship as your promise of peace."

Shirou closed his eyes.

_Sakura's stare bore into him, her face a potent mixture of confusion and fear. Shinji gulped visibly. _

"_Emiya, hmm? Are you here to kill all of us?" Zouken's gaze seared into his soul. "Or do your talents not lie in that field?"_

"I was a fool."

"You are still alive," Caesar pointed out, "and you can still move, though I know his familiars are still following us. I can feel them nagging at my senses."

"What is that worth if I can't save one person?" He could remember the wall rattling last night. "What is being alive worth if I can't live with myself for it?"

"What is dying worth if you can't guarantee your death would save someone?" Caesar countered.

"_If you go into that room right now, you will no longer be a man! Your rage will control you and Mars will take you!" the Servant uttered quietly, holding him down. "You will become a monster!" _

"If you had just saved her once, and given your life for it, your ideals would fail," Caesar said, folding his arms. The biceps looked ready to burst out of the fitted suit. "The only victory you should hope for is complete and total. One that prevents your enemies from harming you in the same way ever again."

"How can I do that with a family as powerful as them?!" Shirou hissed.

"No matter how powerful or old something is, cracks form in it. Stone wears down, wood rots, and the old men fade away with time, the cruelest of foes." He paused, giving the passing birds a smile as they wove in and out of the gusts of wind. "No matter how hopeless it seems, all foes can be broken. When Rome defeated Carthage we salted their fields so that nothing would ever grow there again. That they would never rise as a foe ever again."

"I don't think that salting their garden is going to do anything for us."

"You are thinking too literally, Shirou. Your new foster family consists of an old man that, by all appearances, is quite extreme in his age. His heir is a girl who seems to be your friend. Your... erstwhile ally Shinji, on the other hand, is a fool. An incestuous fool at that."

The wood of the bench groaned as Shirou clenched it. "Who I can't hurt."

"Ah, but you are wrong." Caesar said, placing one palm out and using the other hand to make a few motions on it. "You have promised upon your magic to not harm them. You have not promised to protect them."

"_Sakura will perform the bonding ritual. If she fails, it will be upon her blood. Remove your overshirt, Emiya Shirou. A marking will be placed upon your upper arm, painted in the blood of the family. Once this Mark is upon you, you may access most of my home without penalty. Stay out of my bedroom and the workshop in the basement. You are, as of the moment of this ritual's completion, bound to us. Upon your own magic you risk betraying us, and we are bound by the same." _

_The old man sneered at his grandchildren. _

"_Enjoy all of the benefits of being part of the family, Shirou Emiya... for you are one of us now."_

"I am not familiar with the nuances of magic." Caesar stated. "But the fact that he used Sakura rather than himself could mean that he and Shinji can injure you without fear."

Shirou just closed his eyes and leaned back against the bench. This war was becoming more and more complex, with lines of suspicion and alliance crossing over each other in a daring dance of death.

"So how do we win?"

"Have you ever heard the name Brutus? What about Antony? Pompeiius?" Caesar chuckled darkly. "Read the history books your academy lauds so proudly, and recognize that the winner is not determined by the strength to act, but the willingness to do what it takes. I am your Servant, your partner, and your confidant. I've won wars the world over. This grail war is probably the most technical conflict I've been a part of."

Shirou didn't want to hear any more about war or fighting. He leaned forward and put his head into his hands.

"I don't care about winning," he said, weariness pulling at his bones. "I just don't want anyone to die or get hurt."

"Then you have two choices," Caesar said. "As we are, we lack the tools to win outright. We can hide and wait for a more advantageous opportunity in the war, making promises of neutrality and avoiding conflict." He brought his fist into his other hand. "Or you control the pace of the conflict and crush each opponent before the others have the opportunity to take advantage of our weakness. We aggressively hunt and remove all threats to us and one by one destroy them."

"The answer to conflict should not just be to escalate it," Shirou mumbled.

"You are in a conflict where you cannot be considered a noncombatant." His Servant leaned over, his face only inches away. "You summoned me for a reason, Shirou Emiya. I would like to think it is because you desperately need a victory in this war."

"I wasn't thinking of much when I summoned you, to be honest," Shirou admitted. In an effort to avoid his Servant's gaze, he began to tally the amount of cobblestones in the pavement.

"You summoned an emperor and a world conqueror." Caesar nudged his shoulder with a meaty hand. "I won't disregard that and neither should you. There are times where I have been forced to retreat, but they are few in number and minor in consequence. I cannot tolerate someone else deciding the pace of conflict. However..."

The Servant paused, leaning away from him.

"In this particular instance, I don't think I wish to face this particular conflict head on."

"Are you saying you think I'm stubborn?"

"All good men are stubborn when they need to be." Caesar chuckled. "But in this case, I am simply choosing not to fight a goddess when she has decided her quarry."

"Huh?" Shirou looked up. Caesar had stood off the bench and was stretching his arms.

"I am descended from Venus. I should at least be able to recognize when one of her incarnations is inspiring someone. So, my boy," he began to walk away, "who am I to stand between you and your personal Venus?"

Shirou felt a bit of heat go to his cheeks.

"It's not right to talk about women like that," he called after his Servant.

There was a scraping of shoes, and he realized that someone was right behind the bench. He stiffened, clenching his teeth as he turned around. He was prepared to die in this moment. His own personal Venus? Shirou would die if Rin Tohsaka were here. She wouldn't take a comment like the one Caesar just said lightly. Like a man awaiting his sentencing, Shirou turned his head to face his fate.

The first thing he saw was her purple hair, cascading waves of it that fluttered in the wind.

"_Sakura, do you believe him to be a worthy ally? If you don't, I will end his worthless life where he stands as a mercy to him." _

Eyes of lavender, resolute as wisteria trees.

"_He never breaks a promise."_

He was speechless, staring up at the girl who had saved his life last night. "Sakura!" He coughed, surprised.

"S-Senpai," she said, stepping around the bench. "I need to say something to you. Please allow me to speak."

Shirou could only nod, paralyzed by fear. The last he had seen her was last night, as she had performed that ritual. But the room he had been given in the Matou estate for the Grail war was right next to hers. Last night... he had heard everything.

Sakura wasn't even making eye contact with him. She was looking at the bench or the dirt beneath it, switching between the two intermittently.

She took a deep breath, her cheeks red.

"I never wanted you to see it." Her lips trembled. "I never wanted you to know."

"About your family?"

Sakura finally looked at him, frowning. It might have been more than a frown but it made him immediately shut up. Of course it was about her family! They were mages! The same kind of people that his father would have killed during his career!

"I-I never wanted this for you! You were never supposed to see this!" She stood ramrod straight, staring at the ground in front of him once again. "Now you are part of everything." She stopped talking for a long moment, trembling. "Y-you know."

_The wall began to thump with more noises, and Shirou could hear a choked cry. It sounded female._

"I... I apologize for my family and their actions, on their behalf." Sakura bowed her head, long locks of lilac draping over her face so that Shirou could only see her chin.

_Caesar gripped him, holding back Shirou with both arms. Even though he couldn't get up, that didn't stop his ears from hearing the thunderous noise from the next room. _

"_Let... me... go!" _

_Shirou flexed once more, trying with all his might to lift the larger man._

"_I only had one daughter." The Servant whispered. "She was married to Pompey the Great, my friend! My brother in arms!" _

_Shirou kept struggling, trying to save his breath while the chance to save her still existed. _

"_I hadn't seen her for a year, and I knew!" His voice was like ice. "I knew that Pompey was hard on her. His fourth marriage! I should have known, I should have been there!" _

_His Servant held him steady, unwilling to unleash him. _

"_She died by the hands of her husband, who abused her terribly! Abused our friendship, and killed the only Roman child I had." Caesar locked eyes with Shirou. They were full of the feeling his voice didn't dare let seep through. "I only had his word that she died in childbirth. Only the word of the man who tried to take Rome from me! Long have I raged and longer still will I feel this hatred! That rage that flows through your veins will be your undoing! Just as it did mine!"_

"_She's hurting!" Shirou coughed. _

"_Shirou, you must see past this! It's just a game to these Magi, and you are about to lose it! Stay your sword this day, wait for your opportunity! Be Romulus with the lion of Latium. Wait for the opportune moment!"_

The rage came back, a burning need that made his limbs quake with the itch to strike something. He had heard clearly through the wall what had happened. He clenched his fists and swallowed the anger, because the only person who was around to take it was Sakura, and hurting her was...

His brain violently spiked in pain. Thinking about that was not allowed.

"_Revenge, my boy, is a wine we shall sup together. Perhaps we can find a Ptolemy to do the job. They're unimaginative like that." _

A gust of wind brought his attention back to the present. He had been thinking about all of this for minutes, and Sakura was still in front of him, head bowed and waiting for his reply. The sun had fully risen, and the last signs of the night were being brushed away.

"Sakura," Shirou spoke up, "I can't accept your apology."

She stiffened. He stood up from the bench himself, bowing back to her.

"You haven't done anything wrong. You're one of my closest friends, and the only person that knows I can perform magic." He clenched his fists, remembering how he failed to Trace last night, and how Zouken had sighed in disappointment. "There are no secrets between us. Last night, you saved my life."

"Senpai?" She was looking at him once more, no longer bowed.

"I can't accept your apology because I refuse to associate you with those responsible." He matched her gaze, returning the resoluteness that she had approached him with. "I'm going to protect you. I'll do whatever it takes to do so!"

"_There shall be no Ides of March for you, Shirou Emiya. I, Gaius Julius Caesar, do so swear." _

"I'm going to win this war for you," he added quietly.

Sakura's cheeks were pale, and she stood still. "Why?" She said, the softest of whispers on the wind.

"Because I'm a hero." Shirou said, trying to believe those words as much as he used to. "I won't be able to live with myself if I lost the war now."

"Why would you do that for me?" Sakura asked, turning her eyes away. "Senpai, I-I'm not worth it, I'm—"

"_Yes you are!_" Shirou nearly yelled, making her jump. "Sakura, you and Fuji-nee are two of my..." He swallowed as he came to the realization. "My most precious people. I need you, more than anyone else, and..."

_save her_

_save everyone_

_save anyone_

"_I'm going to save everyone!"_

"_Shirou, saving someone means you have to hurt someone else."_

His heart burnt.

"Senpai, please..." She took a step forward. "I... Grandpa will kill you. Like he..." her words trailed off, and she shivered, clutching at her arms.

"I won't die," he said after a few moments, taking a hesitant step forward himself. His arms ached to be around her, she _needed him._ But he couldn't tell if it was okay, and he didn't want to make Sakura remember what happened.

"I won't die," he repeated. "Not before I save you. I won't let you live like this anymore. You deserve better."

Sakura remained quiet, her gaze locked at the cobblestones, like he had been earlier. Shirou wasn't sure what to say to help her feel better. He felt... powerless, just like last night.

_I have to do something, anything! I need her to know that... I'm here. I'm here, and I will make everything okay._

He held out a hand, keeping his silence. Her head slowly turned upwards, and he could see her eyes peeking through her bangs. She held his gaze for a moment, and he held his breath in return.

Her hand shivered as it approached his.

"Senpai," she murmured as their fingertips brushed against each other, "I... please don't save me just to die..."

Her hand curled into a tight grip around his own.

"I..." she continued shakily, sniffling. "I... I don't... want to be here... without you."

He took a step forward to wrap his other arm around her, pulling her as close to him as he could without hurting her.

"We'll get through this together," he said quietly, "I promise. I won't be going anywhere."

Her entire body shuddered.

"Thank you," she whispered in a voice he could barely hear. He nodded.

_I will save you no matter what, Sakura._

"Hoy!" Caesar called out, and Shirou turned to the Servant approaching. "Mars and Venus! If you dally any further you will be late to your academy." He grinned. "I envy your education, and to miss a single moment, even for touching moments like these, would be the height of folly!"

* * *

From **Aberron**:

"Chapter Two of Caesar is upon us! Though the subject matter is a bit dark, I wanted to do a bit more setup on how this route is going to continue. I don't think many authors have the balls to write a pro-Zouken route, especially because he is normally the villain. But I may or may not have spent hours and hours watching roman flavored series in prep for writing this. Though things seem dark right now, they shall improve."

This chapter took a lot of work. It was rewritten multiple times, not because it was bad, but because Caesar deserves to have justice done unto him as repayment for all of the crimes of DelightWorks. Still, I wanted to have it out much sooner, but I can publish it feeling satisfied with it, which I think is the more important thing here. Hope everyone enjoyed.

As always, thank you to my crack team of Loresingers: **Aberron**, **TungstenCat**, **Exstarsis**, **Kat-2V**, and **KentaKazami**. **Exstarsis** just updated her awesome crossover between F/SN and that well-known Mom Isekai, _Fate/Stay Mama!_, and having worked on it myself I can proudly recommend that you go give it a look if you haven't. **TungstenCat** wrote a very good drama/hurt/comfort/angst story about Ishtar and Ereshkigal dealing with their relationship and how broken it is, titled _Mysterious Divine Wine_. If that doesn't catch your eye, then you should go get an eye exam. Finally, though I do not know them personally, **Dream Tempest**'s _Hollow Child_ is a Shirou/Sakura story that I didn't know I needed until it existed. I don't even have the right words to describe it, only that it's already diverging from canon very rapidly, and I'm so excited to see where it goes. If you like that pairing, definitely check it out.

Your ending theme is _Never Forget_ by **Martin O'Donnell** and **Michael Salvatori**.

Thanks for reading.


	31. Berserker of El Dorado

**Disclaimer:** The following chapter contains heavy violence, gore and disturbing content. Reader discretion is advised. In addition, at the scene transition, I highly recommend putting on the song _Leap Wishes/Blissade (Egregori + Raphael)_ by **Keiichi Okabe** and **Kakeru Ishihama**. It serves as the battle theme.

* * *

_There is no way that they're going to be able to cover this up._

Shirou's ankle twisted as he spun around the corner. A spike of pain shot up his leg, another failure of his body that he had to ignore. He had fallen far behind his Servant in her haste to approach the battlefield, there was no time to waste on pain. Thick columns of smoke billowed out of Shinto into the evening sky, the silhouettes of skyscrapers torn in two faintly visible through them. His heart clenched as he looked at it again, and his circuits burnt as he pushed himself even further.

_Can't let it happen again... not again... never again..._

Traffic had come to a complete standstill, with every lane of the Fuyuki Bridge diverted to be flowing out of Shinto. Police officers stood around helplessly trying to direct an increasingly agitated mass of civilians that grew ever larger as more vehicles were abandoned. Shirou ran past them all, but after more than a few collisions with pedestrians, he switched to jumping across the sea of car roofs. He could distantly hear multiple yells of annoyance, but his goal was clear:

_I can't abandon Berserker. Not here, and never again._

The fire in his lungs was stoked further as he entered the sulfur sarcophagus. His panting was growing worse and worse, his entire body was screaming in agony, and a wave of nausea started to build up, threatening to roll over him and destroy his sense of balance. He put all of those sensations in a drawer in his mind and locked it tightly. It wasn't good enough to be human, or even the garbage magus that he had tried to become—

"_Without thinking, I can crush the feeble meatsack that is your body," she said, yellow eyes stern. "Every Servant is stronger than you, faster than you, better than you in every possible capacity. At our prime we were the heroes at the pinnacle of humanity, and even limited by these class containers, we are empowered simply by virtue of not being human anymore."_

_She stood up from her crouch beside him. He couldn't follow in kind, still trying to deal with the bruises on every inch of skin, but his eyes never left her._

"_So how are you going to beat me?" she asked. "What makes you think you can?"_

"_It—" He coughed. Even his throat hurt. Her chokeholds were fierce. "It doesn't matter—"_

_Her fist impacted the soil next to his face, sensing a splash of dirt all over him and making him sputter. _

"_Yes, it does, you blundering fool," she said through a tense jaw. "Determination and will only gives you the ability to stand up again while your heart still beats, but how will that help you against an enemy that can rip your heart out before you even see them? What can you do?"_

_Shirou was silent in the face of her question, and she slowly lifted her hand from the ground._

"_When you can answer me," she said as she began to walk away, "I will continue training you."_

The only thing he could do against an opponent that could do almost everything better than him...

Another city block passed him by as the earth rumbled and a roar shattered whatever ambience had developed from this _burning husk of a city filled with the dead and the dying whose screams echoed endlessly and he had to press his hands against his ears to get them to shut up shut up shut up shut up SHUT UP—_

His ankle pulsed so strongly that his vision blacked out momentarily. When he could see again he was on the sidewalk, pieces of rubble strewn all around.

Then the drawer unlocked itself, and he _hurt._

Bile and blood mixed together as he heaved, for minutes barely able to keep himself upright enough to not land in his own sick. His arms shook violently along with his abdomen, their strength and energy having abandoned him, leaving in their wake only acid and complaints.

The groan of steel and cement rang out, a guttural moan that was soon drowned by the crushing noise of another building collapsing. Just a few blocks in front of him, glass was crashing upon the asphalt as a tower began to fall. He watched helplessly, hoping, _praying_ that there was no one inside, and then he covered his eyes and ducked his head down, for a mass of dust fell down with it.

Hours, years, seconds, days passed him by as the ground shook and the wind howled. He wasn't able to keep track, all he could do was count his rapid heartbeats against the rhythm of the earthquake. The soundscape did not end when the dust ceased to buffet him, it only changed from an artifice of metal and concrete to cries of pain, roars of exertion, and the thunder of magecraft.

He lifted his head and tried to wipe at the dust on his eyes, but only succeeded in putting on another layer of dust. He opened them anyway, blinking away as many particles as he could. His blurry vision revealed a wrecked street, cars and bodies thrown through empty windowpanes lined with shards of glass, buildings straining at their support columns. His attempts to get up to search for survivors all met with failure as his body refused to respond. His muscles had given up, even if he hadn't.

Another loud roar resounded, and from the ruins of the collapsed building slithered out a thick purple snake head, jaw opened wide as it flooded with violet energy. He could tell it was pointing if not at him, near enough to him that he wouldn't be able to escape its blast.

A spiked metal ball attached to a long silver chain shot from the ground, and Shirou could at last smile.

_Berserker..._

Her scream of rage would have intimidated any more humanoid foe, and as it was the snake head turned downwards, trying to aim at her. Its motion allowed the spiked ball to enter an eye, and the way the beast bellowed in pain, immediately trying to shake away the implement of pain. But Berserker didn't let up, intensifying her own scream and pulling down hard on the chain.

The snake, large as it was, could not fight against her strength and smashed into the street. Instantly, the Servant used the chain to throw herself upwards, and her other arm wound back to throw her other spiked ball. It made a large enough impact through the skull that allowed her to pull two jagged swords from their scabbards and stab it into the bone fracture.

One final wail of mortality silenced the snake head, and it dissolved into golden dust. Berserker jumped too high for his own gaze to follow, probably in pursuit of the rest, but he was still awashed with a wave of relief. She was, inadvertently—

A hand gripped the back of his shirt collar, and he let out a cry of pain as the arm pulled him up and through the air. Every time they landed, the shock of the impact hurt him further, and he couldn't even clench his jaw hard enough to stop himself from groaning as they drew farther and farther away from the battlefield.

It was only after enough of the torture to make him consider trying to black out again that they made one final landing, and he was thrown onto a rough stone roof. He hacked, and blood spattered on the ground before him.

"Once more, your stubborn idiocy has put you in a situation where you lost control of your destiny, _boy,"_ Berserker hissed. "The fact that you were unable to obey even the simplest of instructions to _stay away from the fight_ speaks volumes about the thickness of your skull."

"Ber... ser... ker..." he gasped out, barely managing to turn his head to face her. The sunset was behind him, and so he could see her expression, a sculpture of fury, lit in its entirety. "I... needed... to..."

"What, to die?" she said. "You could have thrown yourself off of the bridge on your way here if you wished to accomplish that. No, you wanted to _participate_ in a battle between combatants who you can never hope to match. You wanted to—"

"Help you," he said, trying to get his breathing under control. "I needed... to help you... couldn't leave you... to fight on your own..."

"_Think, boy!"_ she shouted, her claws flexing and unflexing. "You weren't _thinking!_ You are a useless magus and a terrible Master, what could you _possibly_ do to support me?"

Weakly, he lifted one arm into the air, his final command seal raised high. Before he could speak, she grabbed his wrist and began to squeeze tightly enough to strain the cartilage.

"If you use this last seal to restrict me one more time," she uttered quietly, "I will kill you where you lie. You have betrayed me enough for a lifetime."

Her eyes were flint and iron, ready to set alight his mortal tapestry, but Shirou would not flinch again.

"Berserker... by this... Command Seal..." he spoke through a clenched jaw as her grip began to crush at the delicate bones, "Kill Avenger... don't let her... hurt anyone else..."

Finally, the pain became too much, and he lost consciousness.

**[Never again.]**

Berserker let go of his wrist, allowing his head and torso to hit the ground once more. Already, the small trickle of mana that she had been dealing with for weeks was rapidly growing into a deluge, a flood of power that washed through her entire being. The wound she had sustained in her abdomen healed, the broken femur repaired, and her ribs finally stopped pressing so intensely on her lungs. She inhaled, and her tongue could taste the blood of Avenger in the air from this far away.

"...perhaps I misjudged you, Shirou Emiya," she said quietly, flexing her fingers. "No, you are still the same boy you were before... but you have taken one step forward into manhood."

She took one last look at his collapsed form, red hair with white strands, blood stains on every corner of his clothes, and sighed.

"I will not thank you, especially when you cannot hear me. But I will admire your will, even if you never did come to the answer."

She walked to the edge of the roof, bending her knees in preparation for her return to the battlefield.

"Goodbye," she said, and leapt off. The mana coursing through her veins strengthened her enough to make her leap more than a kilometer forward, and she couldn't help but grin as she skidded off of another roof and into another jump. The air rushed by her at exhilarating speeds, and it took her only seconds to arrive at where she had defeated the last snake strand.

"_AVENGER!_" she bellowed, cracking tile where she hit the roof of another skyscraper, though she did not remain on it for long, as in an instant another snake appeared to tear a piece out of the building. Her ball and chain was already in her hands, and with a spin she threw it down in a similar tactic to earlier.

Though it dodged away from the immediate threat of the spiked metal, it was not able to avoid her own impact into its skull, fast enough to crack through the bone. The other spiked ball followed her into the mock-gore of its inside, and she dragged it through every inch of nerve and bone and muscle she could see. It was not able to scream for long, and soon she was bathed in golden dust as she began to fall to the ground once more.

Rather than stemming her descent, she tucked in her limbs to fall even faster. The asphalt splintered under her as she hit the ground, but there was no time to recover. She threw herself to the side as another round of searing energy exploded where she had stood.

"**Stupid gnat!"** The voice boomed as it refracted through the alleyways, following her footsteps as quickly as the blasts of energy carved through the smoke. "**You have irritated me long enough!"**

Racing under the ragged sky, Berserker passed through the shattered remnants of what had once been a pleasant evening, destruction hot on her heels. The sun continued to dip below the horizon, abandoning the city to suffocating darkness. Distantly, she could hear screams and whimpers echoing from the windows above her. The sound of a child's crying caught her attention, and her gaze quickly locked onto a young girl crouched at the end of an alleyway, covered in part by rubble. She scooped her up as she ran by, rapidly jumping out of the way of another serpent.

She grimaced as the building shattered under its gargantuan form.

_This cannot continue any further. Too many have died because I was _weak.

The girl would not stop crying and begging for her mother, and all she could do was take her somewhat farther away from the rampaging Servant. As she placed her underneath a smaller office building, just beneath a sturdy-looking metal awning, Berserker felt her own legs seethe in empathy pain.

The little girl's legs were bent at odd angles, and she could see fragments of bone piercing through the skin. Blood was erupting from multiple wounds. She would not live long.

She had been rescued only to die so soon after.

_The soothing singing of her older sister helped take her mind away from the pain as she tried to push down her whimpers. They had just set her arm back into place, her first fracture, and no matter what the healers had done to help her, she couldn't stop the tears._

_But her sister was there, and her sister held her as they hurt her enough to heal her._

The memory shattered in front of her eyes with another cry. She had dealt so little with children of this age that she felt helpless, especially with one hurting this badly.

"I am so sorry, child..." she said quietly as she hugged the girl tightly to her, clutching at her throat enough to restrict the air supply. The cries intensified, plateaued, and then weakened before dying out entirely.

She let the girl go, checking for a pulse. For now, her heart still beat, but at least she would not suffer as she passed on.

Her fists clenched as she heard another ear-splitting roar from outside. There was never any time to heal, or even to mourn. The Command Seal would only empower her for so long, and that time was too valuable to waste.

She turned away, blocking the slight of the small bleeding form from her mind, and leapt out onto a rooftop once more. While she had been agonizing, more damage had been done. More corpses littered the streets, more buildings shattered. Avenger was out for blood.

Her breathing accelerated as she let go of the death grip her sanity had put on her Madness Enhancement for so long. Nothing else could be held back to stop the other maddened Servant. There was no more time.

Her vision was colored in blood red.

She roared.

Avenger answered with a barrage of magical blasts, but she was already gone, and the building beneath her crumbled from the force she exerted upon it. Her claws extended further as she landed upon another coil of serpent, but she wasted no time as she began to run up the strand. The head attempted to curl around to fire at her, but one of her blades came out in a flash, and the strand was chopped off, dissipating into gold dust.

"_**ENOUGH!"**_

The gargantuan Servant swept a massive hand at her, the claws extended to box her in. Rather than make a futile effort to avoid the attack, she braced herself and allowed her body to be seized. Even as the Avenger hauled her off her feet, clearly aiming to throw her into a building, Berserker dug her own weapons into her enemy's skin. The chain snapped around the thumb and index finger even as the spikes cut flesh, and Avenger screamed in pain.

Not wasting another moment, she left the chain behind and began to race up the massive forearm. The loss of the weapon was nothing, it was hardly her only option, and she dug her heels in to leave bruises on the scaled flesh as she ran.

"**Die already, you insignificant pest!" **Avenger's purple eyes, bloodied from an earlier attack, narrowed at her. "**I will not have you obstruct my vengeance!"**

Were she in a more rational state, Berserker would have made a comment about her being the source of her own vengeance. Killing one's own Master in a fit of rage on the verge of attaining the Grail could have engendered some sympathy from her, but the trauma had twisted the Rider into the worst possible class, and now she threatened both the secret of magecraft and tens of millions of lives.

As it was, Berserker simply growled and ran even faster, avoiding more energy blasts as she came closer and closer to the head. The undamaged hand came up for another attack, trying to sweep her off entirely as the other arm shook in an attempt to throw off her balance.

"**You—!"**

She turned the attack to her favor, leaping at the approaching hand and digging her claws into it. Avenger didn't even have time to scream or flail before she used the leverage to throw herself upwards once more. This time she slammed into the fallen servant's shoulder, a hand yanking one of her swords free to slice into her enemy's neck.

A scream of rage erupted from Avenger as all of the Servant's hair strands curled upwards to aim at her, a wall of purple light that she had no way of dodging or blocking. But pain was an old friend to Berserker, and even as beams of energy tore through her ribcage, carving a bloody hole near her Spiritual Core, she did not stop. She only roared once more, ignoring the blood pouring into her eyes from a cut in her forehead as she blindly leapt towards the monster's ear.

It was a mistake.

With nothing to grab onto, nothing to brace herself, she was left open when Avenger got her other hand around. The fist struck her directly, hammering her downwards, her body smashing a crater in the soil where she struck the ground. Avenger wasted no time in pressing her advantage, throwing more punches to drive her smaller enemy deeper into the earth, the massive servant snarling her rage with each strike. Once she'd had her fill of merely physical attacks, she drew in her serpents, uncaring of her own mana supply as she poured her rage into a massive blast of raw power.

When the light had faded, she sighed and leaned her weight onto a steel tower. A rain of glass shards fell from the top floors as it strained to keep her upright.

"**The hate... why hasn't it dulled...?"** she huffed. "**The more I kill, the more I destroy, the less there are to... wash away the memories."**

She inhaled deeply, only to stop as a low growl began. Avenger turned her gaze to the crater once more, too deep for her to see to the bottom.

One bloody hand rose and clutched onto the cliff edge, followed by another. Shock and fury washed over Avenger as Berserker's bloody form clawed its way upwards. Her clothes were falling apart, one of her legs was limp, a fragment of femur pressing outwards. There were multiple holes in her torso, and her right arm was hanging on by a thin thread of tendon and muscle.

But she stood, growling.

"Ki... ll..." she mumbled. "Kill... you... I'll... kill you... I'll kill you..."

Berserker took one step forward, her vision flickering from red to white to black, tinted in hatred and rage and the memory of verdant hair.

"I'll kill you... I'll kill you... _I'll kill you!"_

She finally turned her head upwards, and saw the stunned anger in Avenger's eyes, tasting it as much as she tasted the blood leaking in her mouth.

"_Outrage..."_

Her claws became as long as her arm, and every zone of agony on her body disappeared for just a moment. She remembered the way _that man_ had shook his head with a forlorn expression at how much she allowed herself to be hurt just to win a fight, and the rage took over.

She roared.

"_**AMAZON!"**_

She knew her legs were not functional beneath her, that they could not do what she asked them to do, but she did not care, as her Madness Enhancement did not care. She leapt higher than ever before and felt the bones in her legs shatter and crumble to pieces, and she _did not care._

She screamed.

Avenger was already shooting at her, and she let the energy hit her, she felt it try to hurt her as _that man_ had hurt her, and she _did not care._ Both of the monster's hands were scrambling upwards to attempt to knock her out of the sky, and with two swipes she had clawed through them. The droplets of blood followed her as she plummeted, her final companions.

"**No,"** Avenger yelled in fear, "**no, no, **_**NO!"**_

The terror in those violet eyes was too satisfying to not relish in as she collided with the Servant. Her speed gave her the momentum needed to smash through the monster's skull, and though her legs no longer existed and her eyes were so covered in blood that she was near-blind in the darkness, she tore at the brain matter within. Skin and fat and skull fragments and grey matter flung around her as she continued to fall.

There was one final gurgle, and then everything around her turned to golden dust.

She knew she would not survive this, and she did not care. She could feel herself begin to disappear, her remaining ligaments already evaporating. There was no more pain, no more fire of rage, no more blinding hate, only the fall.

Her gaze met the stars, and then the moon, and in it she swore she could see the smiling face of its Goddess.

She smiled back.

* * *

Well, after deleting author's notes multiple times, trying to figure out what to say and what not to, here's what I think I've come down to: I wrote this in five hours; it was one of those wonderful bursts of inspiration like Iskandar, Santa Alter, and Hundred Face; and I feel very happy with it.

Thank you to my Loresingers as always: **Aberron**, **TungstenCat**, **Exstarsis**, **Kat-2V**, and **KentaKazami**. I would like to give a particularly special shout-out to Kat, for not only having fixed my fight scenes from being okay to being _amazing_, but also for starting the TVTropes page for _The Saga of Shirou's Summons_, and putting it on the Fanfiction Recommendations page for Fate/stay night. I had delusions and fantasies of that happening when I first started writing this, but I never imagined in my wildest dreams that this story would ever become as popular as it is. It may seem cheesy and you've likely heard it before, but to everyone who has followed, favorited, reviewed, and simply just kept track of this story without doing any of those, thank you. Thank you for allowing me to take some time out of your day to tell these silly stories.

Today, I shall recommend the following to you: _Anchor of my Heart_ by **TungstenCat**, _A Farewell to Unlimited Blade Works_ by **TheSkipRow**, and _Dusk to Dawn_ by **FrostedMelody**.

I really hope you read the second half with the recommended music. It was both my main aide and the inspiration for this saga as a whole, so I feel it goes very well with it. The ending theme for this chapter is _Empty Tone/Aethervox_ by **Keiichi Okabe**.

If you'd like to give some feedback on this chapter, or partake in the company of myself or my Loresingers, you may join us on the Saga Discord. The invite code is GkXXAYE.

Thanks for reading, and Happy Valentine's Day.


	32. Altria Pendragon (Alter)

**Disclaimer**: The following chapter was written by one of my Loresingers, **Kat-2V**, for a story he published that was intended to be similar to mine in structure. However, he decided that he would rather focus on other things, and handed this over to me to add to Saga. All credit for this goes to him.

* * *

Altria Pendragon was no stranger to poor luck, but even by her standards this was an entirely new low. That was all the more infuriating coming after how painfully close she had come to succeeding in the past war, how extremely well that engagement had been going until near the end.

Kiritsugu Emiya had been the perfect Master. Ruthless, efficient, pragmatic, and doing it all for the good of the many over the needs of the pathetic few. She had enjoyed her discussions with him, planning their engagements. True, her dragon's blood would have preferred to cut Lancer down by her own hand, and killing his pathetic Masters once he was dead had been somewhat wasteful, but it had not been anything she couldn't overlook.

And doing proper battle with Lancelot had been... satisfying. Not that she truly blamed her old Knight, her thrice-damned sister had played them all like a fiddle in their age, but he'd still been sloppy enough to get caught with his pants down and he'd _known _what the consequences would be.

Then... then it had all fallen apart.

Her perfect Master had betrayed her, forcing her to obliterate the Holy Grail, forcing her back to the moments before her death with absolutely _nothing _to show for it. Still, she was the King of Knights, a single setback was nothing to her, and she had willingly answered the call when the Grail had summoned her once again.

...to find herself the servant to Shirou Emiya.

...the son of a betrayer.

...a teenage boy who could barely provide a trickle of mana.

...a self-sacrificing _pacifist _of a teenage boy.

Her battles, short as they were, with Lancer and Berserker had given her some form of outlet for the rage she felt, but even those limited engagements had left her feeling drained and exhausted. Then, to add insult to injury, her Master proved to be the kind of cook who felt the need to go over-the-top with even the simplest of meals, forcing her to wait far longer than was actually necessary before she could even eat.

She'd eaten half of the snacks in his cabinets before he'd even finished breakfast, and then stormed off to the dojo to stew when the fool insisted on going to _school _of all the idiotic things. A school that would, at the very least, have one if not two Magi present, plus a teacher whose very existence declared him to a competent warrior.

Honestly, it was as if he was actively trying to get himself brutally murdered.

"You seem to be in a fine mood this morning."

Altria gave Archer an irritated glare as the man appeared against one wall, his arms crossed in his usual cocky pose. "How did that boy even survive to his current age?"

"I honestly have no idea." Her fellow servant actually smirked, "I take it you sympathized with my Master when she ranted about she would have won this war easily if you were her servant."

"We would have," she answered flatly. "I do not doubt that you are more than your appearance, but you would be no match for me at my full power."

"Lucky for me that you aren't then."

Her teeth ground together. "Did you do as I requested last night?"

"I had nothing better to do," he replied.

More grinding made her jaw begin to ache. "_And!?"_

"There is nothing in his workshop that would serve as a relic for you, nor could I find anything in this house."

That made her snarl as she spun away, black armor shifting as she began to pace across the dojo. She wasn't entirely sure why the other Servant had volunteered to aid her, beyond his obvious dislike of her so-called Master, but in her current state she wasn't one to turn down assistance freely offered.

Especially when it came to resolving the question of her summoning.

With or without an artifact she was certain that Kiritsugu could have summoned her; their personalities, goals, and methods were in tune enough to create a bond between them. Shirou, on the other hand, should not have been able to summon her even if Merlin himself had been guiding him through the proper rituals… they had absolutely nothing in common, which meant he must have used some form of catalyst to force her appearance.

The boy swore up and down he hadn't even intended to summon her, or anyone for that matter, and if nothing else the brat was painfully honest… which meant that Kiritsugu must have left Avalon in his possession. She had all but torn apart the tiny workshop as soon as they had returned, trying to find it, but had come up empty.

If Archer, who could at least go into a spiritual form and move through walls and ceilings, had not been able to locate it hidden somewhere on the grounds either, that left only place left for it.

Within the idiot.

"It's in Emiya then," Archer noted, gray eyes tracking her as she moved. It didn't surprise her at all that he knew who she was, her black sword more or less made it obvious within moments. She'd have preferred he _hadn't _known exactly what she was looking for, but she supposed it couldn't be helped. "Without it, he's certain to get himself killed, and even if you do retrieve it—"

"—he lacks the mana to even let me wield it properly." She growled. "Dammit. Leaving it in place is my only option."

"Unfortunate."

That was certainly one word for it, though she had several others she'd have preferred to use.

"...have you relayed my offer of an alliance to your Master? As our first battles proved, neither one of us can defeat Berserker alone."

"I did." He gave her a shallow nod. "It was well timed considering she was planning to murder your Master once the school day was completed for his foolish act of going there without you, or perhaps she was merely going to steal his command seals."

She paused in her movements, considering that. "Could she support us both?"

"Hmm…" The man scratched at his chin as he hummed, openly considering it. "Doubtful. Neither one of us is particularly low-maintenance when it comes to mana requirements. Even if she did take them only one of us would be able to be active at any one time, and we would be on very strict time limits in regards to fully utilizing our talents."

"Tch. Then we will have to proceed as we are, and as we are we cannot defeat Berserker. We need more allies."

* * *

Altria felt her black gauntlets clench around her sword as she followed her naive, idiot, _boy _of a Master on a mission to kill those with the greatest chance to aid them in this war.

"You still angry with me?" he asked as they reached an intersection, turning and giving her a pathetic look.

"Anger does not begin to describe my feelings for you, _Master,_" she replied without stopping, an armored shoulder ramming into his chest as she walked through him. The Command Seal may have been compelling her to go along with this farce, but that did not mean she couldn't make the fool regret it. "That you followed my advice and guidance in creating alliance with the Tohsaka girl is acceptable, even pleasing. However your moronic refusal to join forces with Caster until Berserker can be defeated, and daring to use a command seal to _force _me along with this ridiculous plan is _infuriating!_"

"I will not work with anyone who harms innocent bystanders," came the expected retort, feet striking the concrete as he pursued her. "She's _killed _people!"

"All wars have collateral damage," she retaliated, not even bothering to look at him. "Did you believe that your father and I won the past war without killing? That I did not bathe the land in blood when I created my kingdom?"

"Kiritsugu was a hero of justice, he was nothing like you or Archer!"

She scoffed, deciding to ignore such inane babble as she spotted the third member of their team ahead. "Tohsaka."

"Saber," the young magus replied as she stepped forwards. "Hurry up Emiya! You're going to make us late and miss him!"

The boy stepped forwards, rubbing the back of his neck. "Sorry. Saber... didn't want to come."

Tohsaka may have had a hidden bleeding heart, but she wasn't an idiot. A glance was all it took for her to confirm that he was down another command seal. "...you idiot! Archer doesn't want to do this either but I wasn't stupid enough to force him!"

It probably said something that Altria was cheered immensely by the notion that Archer had likewise thought this a fool's errand.

"I didn't mean to use it!" The boy held both of his hands up in surrender. "We were just arguing and it kind of... just happened!"

"You _accidentally _used the most powerful spell available to you!?"

The girl continued to berate her ally as she walked past them, compelled to reach the ambush point by her master's order, the two children following behind after only a short pause. Their one sided argument, such as it was, continued until they reached the intersection connecting the temple's path to the city proper. Then Toshaka quieted down, dragging the boy into a bit of cover as she set up a bounded field with commendable speed.

If only _she _had been her master, things would have been... far more tolerable.

"Saber!" Shirou whispered, "Come on, get into cover!"

She gave him a glower but felt her legs start moving regardless of her personal opinions, the magic that animated the servant evidently deciding that following that order was part of his prior command.

No sooner had Altria settled down onto a single knee behind the wall then the boy gave her an almost pained glance. "I'm... sorry about earlier. I didn't mean to."

"Keep your apologies to yourself, boy," she dismissed him with a glance. "Your enemy will be here shortly."

"Assuming he even is Caster's master. He could be innocent."

Altria scoffed. "He isn't."

He gave her a disappointed look that bothered her not one whit, then stilled and lowered himself as a figure appeared in the distance. She watched the man approach, idly glancing at the children as they prepared themselves for battle. The pathetic master had drawn a shinai, pushing strength into its wooden frame, while Tohsaka settled a hand into the proper position to unleash a curse. She noted her other hand buried in a pocket, likely clutching a gem, then returned her gaze forwards.

"_We're going to ambush Caster's Master and you're going to help!"_

She turned the words of the impromptu command over in her head as the teacher's steady pace brought him closer, then past them on the other side of the street. Beside her, the girl had the patience to be a proper battle-magus, Altria would give her that much. She showed no sign of nerves or fear as she calmly tracked the moving target, licking her lips just once before releasing the curse.

...and Altria felt not an iota of surprise when Caster's robes batted aside the curse, the woman in question appearing beside her master before the pair turned to regard their would-be-attackers.

She only half-listened as the boy challenged his teacher about Caster's methods, rising and walking to one side as the conversation continued. The man's eyes locked on to her at once, never shifting away from her blade even as he corrected the lesser Emiya about what kind of man he truly was.

"That is enough." Her raised voice cut off anything the boy was about to say, and seemed to freeze Tohsaka in place as she prepared some form of spell. The girl had probably been preparing an offensive attack against either the master or the servant, seeking to take advantage of the boy running his mouth. "Your ambush failed, master, and a battle tonight would not be in our best interests."

"Saber!" Emiya's furious shout was entirely expected, "You heard them! We have to—"

Excalibur piercing the roadway, both of her hands resting on the hilt, interrupted his rant rather nicely. "Negotiate a proper alliance against Berserker and his insane master. Caster herself stated that she only killed before she had a proper grasp of the magic involved, now that she has done so she is merely weakening the civilians. Your complaints are childish."

He flinched, then rallied like the stubborn brat he was. "I thought you were going to help!"

"You ordered me to aid in your ambush," she corrected him flatly. "As I stated, your ambush failed. You have one command remaining, you may use it at your own peril."

The open threat made his mouth drop open, leaving him gaping at her. Which, to some degree, she could understand. Immature boy or not, he was still her Master, and the notion of betraying or harming him was one that was anathema to everything that her legend stood for. Betrayal, be it the quiet adultery of Guinevere and Lancelot, or the loud and reckless rebellions of Morgana and Mordred, was what had torn her glorious kingdom down after all.

Yet it was Kiritsugu's betrayal that had stopped her from being able to right those wrongs. Stopped her from being able to go back to the start of her reign, to do things properly, to ensure that her Britain would not be overrun. To ensure that the empire that her island would one day create would be ruled from Camelot rather than Londinium.

She despised the very notion of treachery... but that boy had no _right _to command her to obey his childish whims. He was a pale pathetic shadow of his father, nothing more.

And to save Camelot... it was not a choice. The emotions, whims, even the lives of a handful of foreigners in some distant future mattered not at all to her. What was their worth against the countless lives of her own kingdom, her own people? How many thousands would live if she simply dealt with her sister early on? If she could raise Mordred to be a _proper _heir? If she could force Lancelot to keep his damned dick within his armor?

No. There was no choice. Everything she did was for that dream, that second chance. For her kingdom.

"Caster." Altria raised her voice, ensuring it remained commanding. "Does your methodology leave you with sufficient mana to support an additional servant?"

Caster, who had been up to this point more focused on Tohsaka, twitched her head in the saber's direction and went still for several moments. Then she laughed, uproariously, joyfully. "Oh my! Here I had several plans all laid out about how I would steal you away from that little amateur, yet here you are offering yourself to me!"

She narrowed her eyes somewhat and called on her dragon's blood, black and red power dripping down her arms and sword. "I have conditions."

"Saber! You can't!"

He'd barely finished the protest before a flick of Caster's wrist sent a ball of pink energy screaming through the air in his direction. Tohsaka was quick on the uptake, flinging a green shield into its path, but her magic was no match for that of a servant's. The shield cracked instantly, and she only just dragged the boy aside before it could wash over the pair of them.

The glare intensified to the point where Caster clearly felt it, the taller woman flinching back and wordlessly holding up her hands in apology rather than launching a follow up assault. "Ah, you wish them to live? Is that your condition?"

"The girl is youthful and somewhat naive, she will not work with us against Berserker if we harm the pacifist." Altria corrected her. "As we will also require Archer's help, my first condition is that you will leave them alive until such time as Berserker and Lancer are dealt with. Once we have dealt with Berserker, we will establish whose wishes shall be given priority. My own is not one requiring great power, I think it likely we may both be given what we desire."

Caster shrugged once. "As mine is much the same, such requirements are trivial. I accept your terms, Servant Saber."

"Like hell it is!" Emiya snarled. "That won't happen!"

Sighing and rolling her eyes, she turned to face him. "If you would simply accept the logic of this action, you will walk away unharmed... but you will not. Fine, lesser son of a greater sire. Draw your little sword. If you defeat me, I will entertain your whims."

"Emiya! Don't be an idiot, she's—"

The boy didn't give Tohsaka a chance to continue, his wooden blade held high as he let out a war cry... and charged.

* * *

Archer stood atop a rooftop, watching as Shirou Emiya attempted to do battle with his own servant, wondering if he would even get the chance to break a version of himself. It didn't seem likely... this blackened version of his old servant seemed to be doing quite the job on her own.

"Slow," she barked, ignoring a strike against her armored shoulder before simply backhanding him with her gauntlet. "Weak."

He watched without emotion as the boy staggered back, blood running down from his nose as he recovered, working to get his reinforced little stick back up. Altria didn't even bother coming at him, instead simply keeping her feet planted, blatantly daring him to force her to move even a single step.

"Emiya!" Rin shouted from where she was sensibly staying back, her attention seemingly torn between Caster and the train-wreck in the middle of the street. "Dammit Emiya you can't beat her!"

"Watch me!" the delusional idiot shouted back, holding up his weapon in what might have been a threatening position with an actual blade. "Saber! I won't let you help her hurt anyone! You were a hero, weren't you?! A champion of justice! Heroes save people!"

Altria gave him a commendably blatant roll of her eyes, "Re-read your classics, boy. Your beloved heroes leave trails of bodies behind them, and how many of those they slew truly deserved their fate?"

Archer could only nod slightly in agreement, but his alternate past-self let out another furious warcry and lunged forwards once more. He had at least had the brains to go for her unprotected face rather than her armored body this time, something that helped him not at all she batted his weapon aside with a dismissive gesture before slamming the flat of Excalibur's blade into his shoulder.

The blow drove him onto a knee before her, something she must have intended as she spoke again. "Just because your toy sword does not break does not give you strength, speed, or endurance, _boy. _Man up and accept your defeat."

The words seemed to infuriate her opponent, sending him bouncing up to his feet as he began to slash at her head once more.

A flicker of emotion made him glance aside to see Rin's fists tightening, and he quickly sent his voice across their bond. _Rin, don't! Caster will kill you if you interfere!_

_Archer!? _His master jerked in surprise, started to jerk her around, then froze as she had the good sense not to search for him. _I told you to stay at home!_

_As if I would allow my master to wade into danger without me. _He replied, feeling his lips twitch as Shirou Emiya was sent flying back amidst a shower of splinters when Saber broke his weapon. _Remember what she said. Saber won't permanently hurt him, she knows you care for him._

_But we can't lose her to—_

_Rin! _Whatever was left of his heart ached a little at raising his voice to her, but he had to be as clear as he could. _I cannot defeat Saber and Caster together, and even if I managed it that would just leave us open for Berserker or Lancer! She has already made her choice. Unless that boy uses his last seal to force her to kill herself, we have few options._

From the mixed anger, frustration, and the tinge of fear she let leak across the link, Rin knew as well as he did that Shirou Emiya would never be able to give that order.

"...won't ever give up." The boy's words were slurred somewhat, his head shaking as he used his broken weapon to lever himself back up to his feet. "I refuse... to stand by while people hurt others for their own gain. I won't let it happen. I'll save everyone. I have to!"

"Do you?" Saber spoke as she finally began to stride forwards, lowering her weapon to let its tip send up sparks as she dragged slowly along the pavement. "A man who seeks to save everyone is a man who dies as a forgotten martyr, nothing more."

Archer felt that ache once more, unable to do more than stare as Shirou Emiya predictably planted his feet. The boy was a mess, his nose broken, shoulder and ribs probably broken, what was left of his weapon wavering as he tried to hold it properly, energy flickering as he foolishly reinforced what he could.

"I won't... I will _never _give up." He spat out blood. "I will protect everyone. That is why I survived, that is what I live for! I won't let you, I won't let Caster, I won't let any of you hurt anyone!"

Saber stared at him... then closed her eyes and sighed before holding an arm out, her fist closed. There was no time for Emiya to react before a flash of red and black mana shot out like a canon from his former servant, taking him across the chest. She must have pulled as much of the power as she could because it didn't simply turn his chest into bloody confetti, instead it simply sent him flying once more.

He flew in a mostly straight line, perhaps three or four meters backwards before crashing to the ground not far from Rin. His limbs seemed to hang for a second before dropping limply beside him, his body still as he lay in the middle of the street.

This time it was clear he wasn't getting up.

"Caster." Saber spoke as she resumed walking forwards. "Can you take his seal without permanent damage?"

"Of course." The other servant replied, casually drawing a small dagger from the folds of her robe. Rin shook with repressed emotion, only a second warning from him stopping her from reacting when Caster carefully drew a small cut across the back of Emiya's hand.

The magic broke with an audible crack and a muted flash, Caster preening a little as she stood, regarding the symbol now etched on the back of her own hand.

"Our pact is sealed." Saber nodded once. "Tohsaka, we will approach you when we have an appropriate plan of action against Berserker."

If looks could kill Saber would have been laying eviscerated upon the ground, but for once Rin kept a hold of her temper, no doubt keeping his words and warning in mind. Instead she merely swallowed whatever vicious reply she had prepared, then simply strode over and knelt beside Emiya, carefully beginning to check him over.

Avalon must have already been hard at work in the proximity of its mistress, and he groaned a little as she checked his pulse.

"...no..." The whisper was faint, but audible. "I... can't... no..."

"Goodbye, Shirou Emiya," Saber spoke as she walked past him, not so much as sparing him a single glance as she followed Caster and her master towards the temple. "You are a reflection of your father's image upon the water, nothing but an ephemeral copy, unworthy of his name. Grow in power, or you will remain nothing but a burden on your betters."

Shirou Emiya let out a choked sob, unable to do anything more as his servant departed.

* * *

I am sure you have a particular question on your mind, something along the lines of, "Why in all of God's green Earth did you use 'Altria Pendragon' instead of literally _anything else?!_" Kat intentionally wished to contrast the person that _Artoria Pendragon_ is against her _Alter_ self, and decided the best way to do that was to give her an alternate name. Try not to sweat it too much. He refrained from leaving any commentary here, so I will leave it be without much else from me.

I am, as always, grateful to the rest of my Loresingers for helping polish this up, though really there wasn't much to do. They are: **Aberron**, **TungstenCat**, **Exstarsis**, **Kat-2V**, **KentaKazami**, and our newest member, **nd7878**. Endy, as we affectionately refer to him, is the author of a story I plugged before, _Afterlife_, where Olga-Marie deals with a Singularity F that is far worse than canon and desperately summons Ereshkigal to help them get through it. It's really good, and having helped him a little bit with the upcoming chapter, I can tell you it only gets better. You should definitely go check it out, along with the rest of the Loresingers' works.

Your ending theme for this chapter is _Burn in Hell_ by **Andrew Hulshult**.

Thanks for reading.


	33. Osakabehime

**+Neethime 2:04 am**

ffffffomgomgomg my Master just fucking threw himself into a nuke wttttffffff

**+Neethime 2:05 am**

HE SURVIVED WHAT THE ACTUAL SHTI

**+Neethime 2:23 am**

no im not fuckin dealing with this

* * *

**+Neethime 4:06 pm**

Food $200

Data $150

Rent $800

Figmas $3,600

Utility $150

someone who is good at the economy please help me budget this. my Master is dying

**+SheroofJustice 4:07 pm**

_in reply to +Neethime_

YOU SAID ARCHER STOLE MY WALLET

**+KissTheCook 4:07 pm**

_In reply to +Neethime_

Spend less on figmas.

**+Neethime 4:20 pm**

_In reply to +KissTheCook_

no

* * *

**+Neethime 4:24 pm**

see this body pillow? i got it by Crying. my wacom? crying. my dumbass Master? Crying. My perfect nails? Crying. now get the fuck out of my office

* * *

**+Neethime 5:38 pm**

"jail isnt real," i assure myself as i close my eyes and ram the doujin store with my quick NP

* * *

**+Neethime 7:03 pm**

IF THE CLOCK TOWER BANS ME FOR HOLLERING AT THE SECOND MAGICIAN I WILL FACE GOD AND WALK BACKWARDS INTO HELL

* * *

**+Neethime 7:25 pm**

if your catalyst doesnt say "rest in peace" on it you are automatically drafted into the holy grail war

* * *

**+Neethime 8:40 pm**

strongest blade in the world, howeve,r it is so fragile as to shatter when handled by any force other than the delicate touch of a lesbian .

**+KissTheCook 8:53 pm**

_in reply to +Neethime_

I feel called out.

**+SheroOfJustice 9:07 pm**

_In reply to +Neethime +KissTheCook_

For some reason... me too?

* * *

**+Neethime 10:24 pm**

so long suckers! i rev up my np and create a huge cloud of origami. when the cloud dissipates im lying completely dead on the pavement

* * *

**+Neethime 3:17 am**

I've come to make an announcement: Shirou Emiya is a bitch-ass motherfucker. He pissed on my fucking smartphone and he said his justice boner was

**this big**

**+Neethime 3:19 am**

_in reply to +Neethime_

So I'm making a callout post on my twitter dot com: Shirou Emiya, you got a small sword, it's the size of this shinai only way smaller and guess what HERE'S WHAT MY NP LOOKS LIKE

**+Neethime 3:20 am**

_in reply to +Neethime_

THAT'S RIGHT BABY. ALL SUPPORT, NO DAMAGE, NO LOOPS, LOOK AT THAT IT LOOKS LIKE A BUNCH OF BATS TOOK A SHIT ON A DOJO

**+Neethime 3:21 am**

_in reply to +Neethime_

HE FUCKED MY SMARTPHONE SO GUESS WHAT THIS IS WHAT YOU GET EMIYA

BAT SHIT IN YOUR FUCKING SOUP

**+Neethime 3:22 am**

_in reply to +Neethime_

Except that isn't enough

yOU WILL SLEEP IN BAT SHIT

YOU WILL BATHE IN BAT SHIT

IM NOT GOING TO LET YOU SPEND A WAKING FUCKING MOMENT WITHOUT KNOWING WHAT BAT FECES LOOKS LIKE

**+Neethime 3:24 am**

_in reply to +Neethime_

HOW DO YOU LIKE THAT EMIYA? HUH?

**YOU GOT SHIT IN YOUR SOUP YOU IDIOT**

**+Neethime 3:35 am**

_in reply to +Neethime_

rice field sweeping btich i will END you

took awa y MY FUCKING JALEPENO CHIPS

HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO ENJOY THE NEXT EPISODE OF UNLIMITED BLADE WORKS WITHOUT JALEPENO CHIPS YOU FUCKING _**JUSTICE THOT**_

**+Neethime 3:41 am**

_in reply to +Neethime_

ALSO CAN SOMMEONE PLEAE EXPLAIN HOW YOU SURVIVE ARCHER NUKING YOU IN THE FACE

NO BUT ACTUALLY LIKE WHAT THE FUCK

**+Neethime 3:42 am**

_in reply to +Neethime_

fuckkkkkk nearly out of sugar cookies and chocolate milk

but I cant ask him to buy more he'll just whine at me

YOUR NOT MY REAL DAD SHIROU

**+Tamako 7:37 am**

_In reply to +Neethime_

hime-chan r u ok

**+SheroOfJustice 7:44 am**

_In reply to +Neethime +Tamako_

Please don't encourage her.

* * *

**+Neethime 9:01 pm**

who the fuck is scraeming 'LOG OFF' at my house. show yourself, coward. i will never log off

**+Neethime 9:34 pm**

go ahead. keep screaming "Shut The Fuck Up " at me. it only makes my opinions Worse

* * *

**+Neethime 1:04 am**

i would take so many bribes if i was an executor. half my shit would be bribes. take bribes from the dead apostles until theyre too poor to not die

* * *

**+Neethime 3:39 am**

the wise man bowed his head solemnly and spoke: "theres actually zero difference between casters and riders. you imbecile. you fucking moron"

**+BlushingBride 9:57 pm**

_in reply to +Neethime_

Fight me, Assassin

**+Neethime 10:00 pm**

_in reply to +BlushingBride_

stfu terf lol

* * *

**+Neethime 5:20 pm**

_in reply to +Goldielocks_

sup bitch heard u was tryna throw hands. fox only, final destination, no items.

**+Goldielocks 5:23 pm**

_in reply to +Neethime_

Who gave you permission to talk to me, mongrel?

**+Neethime 5:24 pm**

_in reply to +Goldielocks_

k boomer

* * *

**+Neethime 3:34 pm**

can't fight tonight i got ligma

**+SheroOfJustice 3:41 pm**

_in reply to +Neethime_

What's ligma?

**+KissTheCook 3:42 pm**

_in reply to +Neethime +SheroOfJustice_

**YOU ABSOLUTE FUCKING THUNDERBITCH**

* * *

**+Neethime 11:54 pm**

not to be horny on main or anything but

I played the KFC dating sim and i want to FUCK colonel sanders. I wanna be chicken man's SLUT. I want to date that SEXY HOT 2D COLONeL sanders and FRY CHCKIN with him. FUCK.

**+Neethime 12:10 am**

oh +SheroofJustice is tryna come after ME for being horny like he wastnt beign fuckin RAILED by that monk issei COME AT ME, MASTER. YOU REALLY WANNA PLAY THIS GAME? ILL FUCKIN PLAY SQUARE UP

* * *

**+Neethime 12:22 am**

Where the FUCK can a girl get some Hercuhunk dakimakuras

Like godDAMN those TITTIES

**+Neethime 12:44 am**

appARENTLY telling an enemy servant 'oh shit i want you to step on me' is not accEPTABLE to my bitchass master LIke sORrY that berserker was fuckin JACKED

* * *

**+Neethime 9:57 pm**

men only want one thing and it's fucking disgusting.

**+SheroOfJustice 9:59 pm**

_in reply to +Neethime_

I only told you to take out the trash!

**+Neethime 10:01 pm**

_in reply to +SheroOfJustice_

ARE WE GOING TO IGNORE THE FACT YOU CALLED ME 'THE TRASH?'

* * *

**+Neethime 7:14 am**

god damn Tiger's Wood hitting crits from the peanut gallery

* * *

**+Neethime 9:24 am**

fuckin master just asked if i wanted to go to fucking school with him like ? wtf is gonna happen, its school, dumb bitch. just go and learn ive got hentai to watch on the tv

**+BlushingBride 9:40 am**

_in reply to +Neethime_

How sad, having to watch hentai when I get to live it with Souichirou-sama

**+Neethime 9:50 am**

_in reply to +BlushingBride_

bitch aint he teaching rn? i bet he doesnt even moan, fkin loser. I could treat you better ffs, slide into my DMs bb ;)

**+Neethime 1:27 pm**

just ended a relationship

**+SheroOfJustice 1:29 pm**

_In reply to +Neethime_

oh im so sorry

**+Neethime 1:34 pm**

_In reply to +SheroOfJustice_

It's fine it wasn't my relationship

* * *

**+Neethime 6:50 am**

wtf are you doing shirou you incorrigible troglodyte are you fucking blind i'm literally a god damn bat and i can see how thicc purple right there's looking at you with doki doki eyes

**+KissTheCook 6:35 pm**

_in reply to +Neethime_

What the fuck did you just fucking say about me, you little bitch? I'll have you know I won the Holy Grail War five times over, and I've been involved in numerous secret raids on Dead Apostles, and I have over 300 confirmed kills. I am trained in gorilla warfare and I'm the top Archer in the entire Counter Force. You are nothing to me but just another target. I will wipe you the fuck out with precision the likes of which has never been seen before on this Earth, mark my fucking words. You think you can get away with saying that shit to me over the Internet? Think again, fucker. As we speak I am contacting my secret network of spies across Fuyuki City and your IP is being traced right now so you better prepare for the storm, maggot. The storm that wipes out the pathetic little thing you call your life. You're fucking dead, kid.

**+SheroOfJustice 6:41 pm**

_in reply to +KissTheCook_

ok boomer

**+Neethime 6:41 pm**

_in reply to +KissTheCook_

ummm whos mans is this?

* * *

**+SwallowsOverMoon 2:18 pm**

Anyone know a place in town with cheap rent? Sudden change of life circumstances

* * *

**+Neethime 3:52 am**

Liz only scrubs use Falcon Punch wtf

**+SheroOfJustice 3:54 am**

_in reply to +Neethime_

Are you sure this is how the war gets fought? Tohsaka said something really different

* * *

**+Neethime 6:30 pm**

Hey hey +SheroOfJustice what did you say you were going to do today?

**+SheroOfJustice 6:33 pm**

_in reply to +Neethime_

I said I was going to lay some pipe for Rin and Issei, why? And why didnt you just text?

**+Neethime 6:35 pm**

_in reply to +SheroOfJustice_

No reason.

**+Neethime 7:59 pm**

OH WAIT TURNS OUT HE WAS ACTUALLY GETTING LAID NVM

* * *

**+Neethime 4:20 pm**

to the samurai looking ass who's stealing my class name +SwallowsOverMoon, no doubles :gun:

* * *

**+Neethime 4:05 am**

Alexander the Great is what happens when you let dumbass riders name themselves

* * *

**+Neethime 3:24 pm**

aye +Goldielocks you got joe in your gate of babylon

**+Goldielocks 3:29 pm**

_in reply to +Neethime_

What mongrel dared to pollute my treasury with... "joe"?

**+Neethime 3:30 pm**

_in reply to +Goldielocks_

joe mama lmao

**+Goldielocks has blocked +Neethime**

**Neethime 3:32 pm**

gottem

* * *

**+SheroOfJustice 3:53 pm**

Hey +Goldielocks can you unblock +Neethime she said she has something important to tell you

**+Goldielocks has unblocked +Neethime**

**+Neethime 3:55 pm**

+Goldielocks bitch

**+Goldielocks has blocked +Neethime**

* * *

If anything in this chapter looks weird, blame FFN for being a garbage website and screwing me over every time I tried to use one piece of unique formatting. This chapter was written almost entirely by fans in my Discord, with portions edited (and outright stolen) from the twitter account **dril**, and edited solely by **nd7878**.

Saga is going to go on hiatus for a little bit. Might be a couple days, might be a couple months. I recommend you read all the chapters you decided not to read for whatever reason in the mean time, and also check out all the stories I've plugged.

God, I wish I were drunk right now.


	34. Shirou Interlude 1

There was, he perceived, an emptiness.

An emptiness of purpose, of meaning, of something more tangible than stirred words and emotional states. A profound and almost painful absence of something... concrete.

Why had he survived, when others did not? Was it the grand design of Fate, in the interactions and myriad ways he had pushed through... or mere luck? The idiot dance of dice upon a broken field of random results, with no more deeper meaning or purpose than the static on a TV screen.

Kiritsugu had always spoken of a loss—of sacrificing one to save another, of never being capable of saving everyone, and of trying to deal with moving past that, to focus on the good one had achieved. It left a bitter, ugly taste in his mouth, a shadow over every act.

You could never save everyone, no matter how hard you tore yourself apart. And who was saved was not some matter of destiny, or striving. It was the blind and idiot chance that determined who bled out alone and who was wrapped in supportive arms.

Sakura had already shown him that clinging to any ideal without looking at the real life ramifications would either lead you to a road as bleak and ugly as Kiritsugu's... or worse, make your ideals and your beliefs nothing more than words, spat out to comfort the gnawing feeling of failure at the base of the spine, of the realization that you are no hero.

You are just another random collection of atoms, striving for a meaning in a land where meaning has no meaning.

_Saber... Rin... Sakura... Issei..._

His fist clenched.

Learning the truth about people like Zouken had opened his eyes to the fact that humans were not always humane. That some people had no redeeming qualities. That sometimes lives needed to be... removed from the larger world. And yet that somehow rang hollow, as if he was admitting that some things could not be changed.

If Fate did not exist... if destiny was a blind man's bluff conducted on the altar of ignoring reality for sanity, then there was no reason why such evil could not be turned to good instead of merely destroyed.

If Fate did exist, then that meant that meaningless, pointless suffering and evil were not only unavoidable but somehow necessary.

And either way meant his ideals, what was left of them... were merely a way to convince himself that he was not, ultimately, at fault. Be it some higher game of the Grail or merely the toothless smile of chaos, selflessness and sacrifice to do the Right Thing...

...meant nothing if it was not reciprocated. To face evil and cling to one's ideals regardless of the cost was not selfless. It was as evil as anything Zouken had done, because it presupposed that the reward and the righteousness of such outweighed the cost.

As he gazed at the shattered and tormented form of Sakura, and then back to the sky, he wondered how he had ever thought such a thing could be true.

* * *

This chapter was written by my friend **LogicalPremise**. He picked the ending theme, which is _Ain't No Sunshine_ by **Bill Withers**. My Loresingers, as always, have my gratitude for their work.

Thanks for reading.


	35. Kiyohime 2

Kiyohime was smiling, a beacon of hope in the dim street.

"You need to be more careful, Master," she chided, just as a good wife would.

"I couldn't just stand there and let Assassin hurt you," he replied. The warm amber gaze he fixed on her made her chest ache as the fire inside of her danced with happiness.

"You're supposed to let me take care of that," she protested, though her heart wasn't in it. Anchin-sama was _relying_ on her. Though she was disappointed in herself for allowing him to be hurt in her place, she couldn't help but admire his bravery and his will.

"I can't let you," he said, his tone resolute. "Girls aren't supposed to fight."

She nearly swooned. He was the dashing man she had always wished for who would protect her no matter what, and now she had the chance to be his supporting pillar. Whether or not he was able to communicate that reliance to her wasn't important, for she knew it was there.

_My dreams have never felt so close._

As they crossed the asphalt, he once again attempted to take his weight off of her and back onto his feet. Once again, he nearly stumbled before she caught him, continuing to maintain her gentle but firm hold.

"You don't have to carry me the whole time, you know..." he grumbled. In response, she tightened her grip on the arm she had placed around her neck to steady him.

"I want to, Anchin-sama," she replied happily. "I want to help you, and... you feel nice."

It was the truth. The rough cotton of his sleeve sliding against her neck sent shivers down her spine. She hoped he didn't feel her shake, she didn't want him to think of her as anything but a bastion for him, solid and reliable.

"Well..." he held out the word before sighing. "Okay. I won't stop you."

She nearly squealed but managed to hold it in. They were making such _progress!_ Maybe soon he'd finally let her cook for him. Even if he cooked food fit to make the Buddha cry, it wasn't as if she didn't know anything... and maybe she could show him a thing or two! As his wife, she really ought to be able to welcome him home with a bath and his favorite meal... something she'd have to learn sometime soon.

They weren't far from home now, and she had to take care of him. His shoulder needed to be washed and bandaged, he needed to be fed (and _bathed!)_, and she was going to be there for him every second she could.

_This Kiyohime will never abandon you, Anchin-sama._

**[A BODY OF BLADES]**

Shirou sighed as he stepped through the doorway, a mumbled "I'm home" passing through his lips with a wince. The fracture in his thigh was not being kind to him, and even with his Servant's help and aid the wound in his shoulder had reopened.

As he heard light footsteps come down the hall, accompanied by the smell of miso soup, he took a deep breath and prepared for said Servant's reaction.

"Welcome home An—" Kiyohime stopped in her tracks as she spotted the tatters of his clothing, her expression coloring with shock. "What happened?!"

"Nothing—" He hissed as he leaned at the wrong angle and felt the crack in his femur grow ever so slightly. "Nothing, really. I just... got into a bit of a fight with Rider." He slowly made his way up from the entrance to sit on a nearby chest.

"What fight? Weren't you at school?" She shoved her tray to one side, some of the soup spilling out over the side. "You were supposed—you promised you would be safe!" A spark of flame lit in golden eyes, then softened. "Why didn't you use a command seal? Why didn't you call me?" she whispered plaintively.

"I didn't want to drag you into danger along with me just because I made a mistake," he said. "You don't deserve that."

She stared at him for a long moment, her expression unreadable. The weight of her gaze felt uncomfortable as the silence stretched between them. Then she gave a fond sigh of exasperation.

"That's just like you, I suppose." Her gaze warmed as she smiled, before she sprang into action. "Okay, stay there! I'll get the bath running and get something you can use as a splint! Don't make it any worse!"

As she ran back down the hallway, he sighed.

_It's bad... but it's not that bad, I think. There's no need to make this much of a fuss over a flesh wound._

Once she returned with some bandage tape and two shinai about the length of his leg, he said as much. As she taped them onto his leg to keep it straight, she huffed.

"Whether it is or isn't bad doesn't matter, Anchin-sama," she said, her golden eyes shimmering with concern and warmth. "I want to help you. I don't like seeing you hurt. Will you let me do this, if not for you, for my own satisfaction?"

He took a deep breath.

"Okay," he said. "I'll be fine come tomorrow, just so you know."

"Tomorrow isn't here yet," she said as she stood up, brushing dust off of the lower half of her kimono. "So for now, you have to let me help you."

He couldn't help but smile.

"If that's what you want, I won't stop you."

"Yes," she said as she took a hold of his arm and gently helped him up. "It very much is."

**[WITH BLOOD OF IRON]**

Shirou lay back as gently as he could, letting the bathwater cocoon him. As he predicted, the fracture had healed overnight, but with a new day came a new wound.

"Shirou-sama?" said a voice that he was not particularly keen on hearing right now. "Can I come in?"

"No," he stated firmly, glancing at the door to see her silhouette on the shoji.

"Please?" she asked again.

"My answer isn't going to change," he said with a frown. "You're not allowed in the bathroom while I'm using it."

"But it's the duty of—"

"_No._"

There was a sigh of crushed dreams, and the silhouette lowered, sitting down and leaning against what was likely the nearby cabinet. She pulled her legs to her chest and sat there, and after a few moments of silence Shirou turned forward again. He hadn't come just to bathe, but to heal, and though companionship was welcome, he was very experienced in letting silence knit his wounds.

"How are you feeling?" Kiyohime asked after the water had dimmed to lukewarm. He grunted as he shrugged, making the muscles in his back complain loudly.

"Well," he said after straightening out. "I'm feeling well enough, I think."

"How's your chest?" she continued. He absently fingered the new bruise on his abdomen, trying hard not to touch at his sternum. It was still healing from when Lancer had tried to shatter it to pieces with a single punch. When he tried to inhale deeply, it yelled at him for his foolishness, and so he kept his breaths short and shallow.

"...could be worse," he finally answered. "Why?"

"Don't ask me why," she chided. "I'm checking up on you. You know I support you and appreciate what you're trying to do, but I... I worry about you."

"_Why?"_

_His guardian's hazel eyes darkened as she splashed a cotton ball with disinfectant and not-too-lightly dabbed it on his skin. He hissed at the stinging pain._

"_Because, you idiot," Taiga said, "I care about you."_

"Oh," he replied in the present, with the same tone he had in his memories. He wasn't sure how else to respond, and his Servant didn't pounce on the silence.

"Okay," he said after a few moments. "I won't stop you."

Another silence descended.

"Thank you."

For some reason, her tone didn't feel as warm as it used to.

**[A MIND OF STEEL]**

She had never gotten many chances to practice kneeling in seiza, something she was regretting immensely right now. Her head was bowed the lowest it had ever gone; if she looked anywhere but the ground, she would see his blood. She knew where his body was, crumpled and nearly destroyed, by the sound of the much-too-occasional wheeze that ruptured the night.

"Please..." she begged. "Take the grail, I don't care anymore. Just save him. I can't bear to see him near death again."

Though her voice shook, it was firm in intent. Even as her heart beat so quickly and loudly, an erratic percussion banging against her inner ear, she knew that this was the only way she could save him.

"Hmph," came the curt reply from Archer's Master. Though they may have had an alliance, she was a magus in the end, and she would not give up this service for free. "Fine. But though he still holds his seals, you will be my Servant in practice, understood?"

Of course she understood. What other option did she have? Even the burning scarlet of devotion that covered her eyes fluctuated without purpose or direction. She scrambled and clawed for any possibility to save him. The fire in her wanted to lash out and burn everything. The frustration of never being able to protect him grew hotter and hotter, kept in check only by the cold realization that, no matter how much she tried to protect him, she couldn't truly change anything as long as he continued to actively put himself in harm's way. There was no rage that could keep Shirou Emiya alive against his will.

"Yes," she replied, choking back tears. "I understand. I'll work for you, I'll win this war for you, just please... please don't let him die."

And so she bent her knee to the woman named Tohsaka, the one person on their side with the power to heal him. She would suffer the absolute indignity of working alongside the Archer who did nothing but belittle her and her Master. A man whose very presence ground on her in its unrecognizable familiarity.

A man whose typically-insufferable gaze stared down at her with the smallest hint of pity, an unfathomable emotion coming from _him_ of all people.

Kiyohime couldn't bring herself to look as Tohsaka moved to Shirou's side. Red light filled the area as Tohsaka upheld her end of the promise, but Kiyohime's relief was drowned out by the sickening claws of guilt, shame, and a nauseating feeling that churned her stomach that she refused to put a name to.

Archer took a slow step forward and kneeled closer to her prostrated form. She flinched as his hand lightly pressed on her shoulder.

"He isn't the kind of boy to realize that other people value him," he said quietly. "He's dragging you down with him. You don't deserve this."

"I don't need nor want your sympathy," she almost hissed as she met his gaze. "You have no right to judge him _or _what's between us."

"You'd be surprised," he muttered, and then walked back to his Master's side. She wished that her stomach wasn't sinking as his words settled in her mind. She wished that she hadn't listened to him at all.

Most of all... as she stared at her Master's pale face, she feared that he might be right.

**[AND A HEART OF GLASS]**

The door closed behind her, its crash making her wince. A violent sound at such a late hour was sure to wake Shirou up, betraying her entire purpose for going out in the first place. She paused for a moment, her ears keen to detect any reaction, and picked up the murmur of shuffling from the living room.

_Please don't be awake..._

After taking off her shoes, she quickly made her way down the hall. Her footsteps were soft against the tatami flooring, but she knew from experience that _if_ he were there, he could hear her coming. As she reached the door to the living room, she inhaled.

_Please, I beg you, don't—_

There he was, hunched over the kitchen counter, gritting his teeth as he wrapped _another_ bandage around his arm, which was already in a makeshift sling. She clenched her fists as she took a step inside, and his gaze flickered to her momentarily before looking back down at his _new_ injury.

"Shirou," she said softly, her energy draining further as the fire receded to embers and sparks. "I'm home."

"Welcome home," he replied without looking at her again. "How's Tohsaka?"

"...safe." She stepped inside and approached the counter he was hunched over, waiting for him to look at her.

"That's good," he said politely. He tied off the bandage, a grimace striking his face as he tightened the knot. "I hope Archer treated you well."

The skin of a servant was infinitely tougher than that of a normal human, but her fingernails felt as though they were about to cut through and draw blood as her fists shook.

"Well enough," she said, forcing them open again as she leaned on the counter, bringing her eyes level with him. She inhaled deeply. "What happened?"

"I... bumped into the fake priest," he said after a few moments. "We got into a fight and he broke my arm, but eventually he ended up letting me go."

_He went out again. He went out again and got himself hurt _again.

"Why?" she asked quietly, gripping onto the countertop to steady herself. Her vision was swaying. "Why did you do it? Why did you go out again? You were supposed to be resting."

"I had to," he stated simply. "There were three more Servants out there, and I needed to make sure that they wouldn't hurt anyone else while you and Tohsaka were busy."

"But why?" she repeated. "Why did it have to be _you?"_

"No one else can do it but me." He finally looked her in the eye, and his gaze was resolute, but she could see the way he was looking past her.

"Why not?" she insisted. "Why can't you just let them fight each other?"

"They could involve other people," he said. "Innocent people. I can't sit around doing nothing anymore. If the previous war caused the Fire, I can't let that happen again."

"Okay, just... please... let me protect you," she begged, pinpricks in her eyes as she tried to hold the frustration back. "If you stay put and let Tohsaka and I win, then we can finish this war and nothing like that fire will ever happen again. If you want, I can even go out with you after my patrols with her. I just need you to wait for me. _Please_."

"Tohsaka's a proper magus. She can keep you safe, and I can't. There are other things I need to do, and..." He grimaced and shook his head. "I can't let you be hurt. You don't deserve to be hurt because of me."

Her hands smashed into the countertop so hard it splintered, and through the crimson that was beginning to tint her vision, she could see him take a step back, staring at her in shock.

_"WHY?!"_ she screamed, hot tears leaving streaks on her cheeks. "Why do you think you're _helping me_ by being hurt instead of me?! Why can't you understand that hurts me just as much, if not more?!"

She forced herself to meet his gaze again, and her insides twisted at how he looked at her as if he didn't understand what she was saying. As if this was the first time anyone had said something like this to him.

"What is wrong with you, Shirou?" she pleaded. "Why do you have to be the one who gets hurt? Why do you have to fight instead of me? Why do you have to fight _at all?!"_

"Because—"

"No!" she interrupted, taking long strides around the counter until she turned the corner to face him again. "The answer is _you don't!_ You're a Master, I'm the Servant! I protect you, I fight for you! I completely threw away my dignity just so we can be happy together for the little time we have left! Why do you insist on _hurting me_ like this?!"

She took another step closer to him and choked on the next words she tried to say. She wiped at her eyes.

"Don't you understand?" she asked, sniffling. "I gave away my pride, my own wish, my chance of a happy future with you... I gave away all that so you wouldn't have to go out anymore. You wouldn't have to come back injured, near-dead on your feet. And the second I turn my back..."

She threw her arms out at him.

"You come back like this! _Again!_ Why do you insist on abusing my trust, over and over and over again? What is _wrong _with you?!"

The silence stretched for what felt like hours. She put her head in her hands, trying and failing to hold back her sobs. The fire was in agony, desperately wanting to be unleashed, but without an outlet it just seethed under her skin.

_Even Anchin never hurt me like this..._

For a while, he did nothing, and she leaned on the countertop again to prop herself up, still unable to face him as she cried. Then, with not even a breath, he stepped around her, and she looked up and watched as he silently sat down at the dinner table, kneeling and staring at the wall. She had always wished to be the one in the kitchen, having him wait like this for her to make him dinner. But now...

She took a shuddering breath, and then followed him and sat across the table from him. His cheeks were twitching.

"If..." he started, and then stopped. He put his hands on the table, and she noticed that they were trembling. "If Kiritsugu Emiya wasn't out in the rubble without a Servant, desperately searching for someone to save... I wouldn't be here. If I'm not the one who saves them..."

His hands clenched into fists.

"Would anyone know that there was someone to save at all?"

She desperately wished that she could just agree with him and believe those statements unconditionally. But the fire had coiled around her heart and tightened with every breath. He had hurt her too much to brush this aside.

"While you're searching for other people to save," she said quietly after a few moments, "I'm trying to save _you._"

"I've already been saved, though," he said, with the saddest smile she'd ever seen. "I have to pass that onto others."

She reached a hand across the table and gently took his.

"Just because you were saved once," she said slowly, refusing to let go of his gaze, "doesn't mean you can't be saved again. A hero can be saved, too."

After a few moments, he looked away, and she worried that she still hadn't gotten through to him. Then he sighed.

"If that's what you want..." he said quietly, "I won't stop you."

His hand gripped onto hers a little more tightly, and with it she breathed a sigh of relief. It wasn't over, but it was the first step.

She hoped she would be able to see him take the last.

* * *

Hello there! Good to see you again. Let's get right back into it, shall we?

The following is extremely important if you are invested in Kiyohime's storyline: **this will be the last Kiyohime chapter in _The Saga of Shirou's Summons_.** This is not because she will never be written again, although as always I cannot promise that she will. This is because I have decided that it would be best if storylines that get continued be put in a separate story outside of Saga, as to not clutter it up with things that you may not want to see. Kiyohime is getting her own spin-off in _Heart of the Truth_, something you will see happen for any other Servant that gets more than one chapter. If I ever do write more for them, I will post one more chapter in here to notify you that it is being spun-off, and from then on it will only be posted in their respective spin-off. Basically, if you want to read more Kiyohime, then go follow _Heart of the Truth_.

I know what I promised in the last chapter said that this was supposed to be a wholesome story. I apologize for having broken that promise. My muse was captured by a particular scene, the only good scene, from _When Supernatural Battles Became Commonplace_. If you look that up, you'll know when you find it. In every other regard it is a trashy harem romcom, but this one scene was the gem in the pile of garbage, and it was well worth it.

Thanks to my Loresingers for all of their help, in particular for this chapter. It was able to happen because they were excited by just a little bit of rambling from me and we ended up bouncing around ideas for three hours together until we came up with the framework for this chapter, and then when I continually got stuck on what to do, they helped fill in the gaps and made it much easier for this to come together. Seriously, my writing would be nothing without them, so I am very thankful to them.

I would like to plug my friend **Exstarsis**'s _Razorblade Rain_ today. There are many stories that involve an OC Master at Chaldea, but I think that she manages to dexterously walk the fine line between Mary Sue and completely uninfluential very well. Not only that, but she's rewriting the Salem Pseudo-Singularity to come together in a more coherent fashion, and as a professional author I trust her immensely to do it justice. You're going to want to follow this.

Your ending theme is _Shoes of Glass_ by **Kanako Ito**.

Thanks for reading.


	36. Osakabehime 2

**+Neethime 9:17 am **

i miss lancer

**+IrishDog 9:34 am **

_in reply to +Neethime_

I'm not dead!

**+Neethime 9:37 am **

Sometimes I can still hear his voice

* * *

**+Neethime 12:29 pm **

people knock on my door like I'm gonna answer it

**+SheroOfJustice 12:32 pm**

_in reply to +Neethime _

YOU LOCKED ME OUT OF MY OWN HOUSE

**+Neethime 12:34 pm **

_in reply to +SheroOfJustice_

I'm definitely not answering the door if they start yelling like a lil bitch

**+Neethime 1:53 pm**

Okay, why are the police here? Wtf which one of you losers SWATTED ME?

**+SuzuChan 1:56 pm **

_in reply to +Neethime_

A CHALLENGER APPROACHES, SUP BITCH

**+Neethime 2:07 pm **

_in reply to +SuzuChan_

Who the fuck let the hyena in?

**+SheroOfJustice 2:15 pm **

_in reply to +Neethime _

Ummm well she came by when I was waiting for you to let me in. we started talking, took a walk around the neighborhood, some... other things, so I kinda HAD to invite her in for dinner, you know?

**+Neethime 2:17pm **

_in reply to +SheroOfJustice _

YOU FUCKING JUSTICE THOT STOP BEING A DAMN HAREM PROTAGONIST

**+ThotRider 2:18 PM **

what's the tea the girls are FIGHTIIIING

Trending: #NeethimeIsOverParty

**+SuzuChan 2:21pm **

_in reply to +Neethime_

Listen hiki princess just bc ur boring af and jelly he wont fuck w u doesnt mean u can throw that kinda shade, really not a good look tbh

* * *

**+SuzuChan 4:00 pm**

+SheroOfJustice Babe! It's 4pm, time for your sword boning!

**+SheroOfJustice 4:01 pm**

_in reply to +SuzuChan_

yes honey

* * *

**+OnceAndBorgarKing 6:32 pm**

switching masters to caster, get rekt +SheroOfJustice

**+SheroOfJustice 6:35 pm **

_in reply to +OnceAndBorgarKing_

NO SABER YOU CAN'T JUST DO THAT WTFFFF

**+OnceAndBorgarKing 6:39 pm**

_in reply to +SheroOfJustice_

hrrrrr sword goes swish

**+Neethime 6:54 pm **

_in reply to +OnceAndBorgarKing_

+SuzuChan wait who tf is this bitch, arent you the saber this war?

**+SuzuChan 6:57 pm**

_in reply to +Neethime and +OnceAndBorgarKing_

nah hime im just a hot and sexy transfer student lookin for love idk why you thought I was here to fight lmao

**+ThotRider 7:03 pm **

_in reply to +SuzuChan_

hell yeah best club ever, wanna go fuck w/ some high school kids tomorrow?

**+SuzuChan 7:06 pm **

_in reply to +ThotRider _

girl if you wanna fk w some1, lemme tell you about this monk kid

**+SheroOfJustice 7:08 pm**

+Issei ISSEI YOU HAVE TO RUN

_**+Issei has turned off his location**_

**+ThotRider 7:10 pm **

+IrishDog, fetch.

* * *

**+ThotRider 4:43 pm**

guys my dog ran away last night, if anyone has seen him pls let me know

**+SheroOfJustice 4:51 pm **

_in reply to +ThotRider _

WAIT DID LANCER RUN AWAY WITH MY BOYFRIEND

**+KissTheCook 4:52 pm**

_in reply to +ThotRider and +SheroOfJustice _

WAIT DID THE MONK BRAT RUN AWAY WITH MY BOYFRIEND

**+Neethime 4:55 pm **

this is so sad alexa play last stardust

* * *

**+SheroOfJustice 3:49 pm**

Excuse me, may I talk to the manager? +EnmaPavillionOfficial

**+EnmaPavillionOfficial 3:54 pm**

_in reply to +SheroOfJustice_

Manager speaking, is there a problem?

**+SheroOfJustice 3:55 pm**

_in reply to +EnmaPavillionOfficial_

My servant says you hurt her feelings

**+EnmaPavillionOfficial 3:56 pm**

_in reply to +SheroOfJustice_

I hurt your servant's feelings? How?

**+SheroOfJustice 3:57 pm**

_in reply to +EnmaPavillionOfficial_

Because you told her to "kill herself and reincarnate as a better cook"

**+EnmaPavillionOfficial 3:59 pm**

_in reply to +SheroOfJustice_

My sincerest apologies. Will you please tell her that I meant it?

* * *

**+SuzuChan 5:46 pm**

White Day represent! Guess who's + shopping arcade getting all the games bought for her?

That rite, +Neethime. I got ur man, bat bitch.

**+Neethime 5:55 pm**

_in reply to +SuzuChan_

Lmao have fun when he throws himself off a balcony tryna save a kid's balloon

**+SuzuChan 7:34 pm**

_in reply to +Neethime_

doesnt matter had sex

* * *

**+Neethime 2:34 pm **

why has nobody ever made a collab of the EMIYA theme and Megalovania

**+KissTheCook 2:36 pm **

_in reply to +Neethime _

The what theme?

**+Neethime 2:37 pm **

_in reply to +KissTheCook _

oh shit you didn't know? nvm

**+KissTheCook 2:38 pm **

_in reply to +Neethime _

No, tell me. What the hell are you talking about?

**+KissTheCook 2:45 pm **

_in reply to +Neethime _

I'm coming over.

**+Neethime 2:46 pm **

_in reply to +KissTheCook _

FUCK

* * *

**+Neetime 6:56 pm **

+KissTheCook you'd be a lot less anal if you let the supercomputer be your boss instead. no takesies backsies you dumb bitch

**+KissTheCook 7:15 pm**

_in reply to +Neethime_

I have done nothing to deserve the completely unprovoked attacks I see every single time I open up this alaya-damned app.

**+Neethime 7:42 pm **

+KissTheCook yo aren't you like this bc you didn't get laid in your route

**+Neethime 7:43 pm **

+KissTheCook does that make you some kind of incel

* * *

**+Neethime 3:19 pm **

I'm so hype for this new smash character really hoping that Shiki (Ryougi of course Tohno sucks ass) finally gets her time to shine

**+SuzuChan 3:24 pm **

_in reply to +Neethime _

mind if I go smash with your Master for a bit?

jk already did

**+Neethime 3:25 pm **

_in reply to +SuzuChan_

yeah? was he any good? fuckin shotacon

**+SuzuChan 3:31 pm **

_in reply to +Neethime _

sorry what was that? couldn't hear you over the sound of your man under me

* * *

**+Neethime 7:41 am **

MY FUCKIN MASTER IS MAKING ME WALK WITH HIM TO SCHOOL OMGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG

**+Neethime 7:42 am**

this isn't fucking awkward at all nope, just me, master, and the kicked puppy face on thicc purple over there

**+Neethime 7:43 am **

if you were hoping to take his v-card you are way late to that party hun big oof for you

* * *

**+Neethime 6:47 pm**

please boss im begging you not fish for dinner again

**+ThiccPurple 6:48 pm**

_in reply to +Neethime_

every day until you like it, bitch (◡ ‿ ◡ ✿)

* * *

**+Neethime 4:34 pm **

sometimes i wish i can be more than an accessory in this war, but unfortunately as a gamer i don't get respect

**+Tamako 4:37 pm **

_in reply to +Neethime _

well,,,i'm not a gamer. maybe they'll respect me?

**+Neethime 4:40 pm **

_in reply to +Tamako _

that just makes you a beta cuck

* * *

**+Neethime 3:01 am**

i want to pee in the clock tower hq

**+Neethime 3:03 am**

i just wanna...piss on it...

**+Neethime 3:04 am**

find the nearest lord and get em nice and,,,,you know,,,psssssss

**+Neethime 3:07 am**

you feel me, right +SuzuChan? you get where i'm coming from, right?

**+Neethime 3:11 am**

its like im ...marking territory. it belongs to ME

when _i _do it

* * *

**+Neethime 8:09 pm**

well it's been 19 hours and i still feel the same way

**+SuzuChan 8:11 pm**

_in reply to +Neethime_

you still wanna piss on a clock tower lord?

**+Neethime 8:12 pm**

_in reply to +SuzuChan_

yes suzuka thank you for reading my drunken ramblings about peeing in the clock tower

**+SuzuChan 8:14 pm**

_in reply to +Neethime_

listen I can get you to the clock tower

**+Neethime 8:16 pm**

_in reply to +SuzuChan_

finally...

i can release my true powers...

**+SuzuChan 8:17 pm**

_in reply to +Neethime_

I know you've been holding it in for so long

**+KissTheCook 8:17 pm **

_in reply to +Neethime and +SuzuChan _

WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU TWO TALKING ABOUT

**+SuzuChan 8:18 pm **

_in reply to +KissTheCook and +Neethime _

fucking your master and peeing on a clock tower lord, because, you know, what else do you do on a saturday night?

**+Neethime 8:19 pm **

_in reply to +KissTheCook and +SuzuChan _

i peed on your master archer that means she's mine now, that's the holy grail law

**+KissTheCook 8:19 pm **

_in reply to +Neethime and +SuzuChan _

WHAT

WHAT THE ACTUAL SHIT

WHAT

* * *

**+KissTheCook 9:00 pm **

I've come to make an announcement: Osakabehime is a bitch-ass motherfucker.

**+Neethime 9:01 pm**

_in reply to +KissTheCook_

oh no you are NOT plagiarizing me justice slut

* * *

**+Neethime 4:45 am **

thnx to my presence concealment, i placed origami in every crevice of that toesucker mansion #pranked

* * *

**+Neethime 3:24 am **

Holy fucking shit just finger blasted way too hard to this recording of that gold archer's laughter i dunno why but its SO FUCKIN HOT

**+BlushingBride 3:45 am**

_in reply to +Neethime_

You do realize he's the guy you did a joe mama joke at and then blocked right

Also I need my effects back. Silk is not cheap

**+Neethime 3:47 am **

_in reply to +BlushingBride_

I WANT TO BANG HIM DO YOU THINK HE'D SAY YES

**+Neethime 3:48 am **

_in reply to +BlushingBride _

NO THEY'RE MINE NOW MEDEA

**+Neethime 3:51 am **

HEY +BlushingBride

**video attachment of Osakabehime wearing them on her face and chugging sake through them**

**+BlushingBride 3:53 am **

I feel like I should be angry but… save some sake for me im coming over

* * *

**+Neethime 5:43 pm**

ay +SheroOfJustice whats jaguar man doing here?

**+SheroOfJustice 5:45 pm **

_in reply to +Neethime _

That's Taiga. Who's jaguar man?

**+Neethime 5:47 pm **

_in reply to +SheroOfJustice_

...nvm grail war cancelled i gotta abort this mission bye-onara

* * *

**+Neethime 6:05 pm**

Hey +Jagwaa whats ur size? asking for a friend

**+Jagwaa 6:15 pm **

how to turn down creeps online

**+Jagwaa 6:16 pm **

shit this isnt google

* * *

I'm not sure what to say. This is, again, the fault of my Discord server and their inability to let go of Hime memes. Okay, maybe I'm a bit to blame as well. You can join us with the invite code GkXXAYE. Hope to see you soon.

Thanks to **nd7878** for organizing this entire chapter.

Your ending theme... aw, fuck it. Just go watch the Sonic fandubs made by SnapCube on Youtube. They're all really great.

Thanks for reading.


	37. Emiya Alter

"For fuck's sake, what do I have to do to get some damn _action_ around here?!"

Archer ignored Avenger's complaint as he scanned the street. Standing in the city center without holding back their presences made them a beacon for enemy Servants, which was exactly what she wanted. He was only here because he had a feeling Avenger would bite off more than she could chew and weaken their chances of winning the war by dying like an idiot. That was the sole justification he could find for leaving his Master in the hands of the allied Assassin.

They sat on a bench at the edge of one of Fuyuki's larger parks, surrounded by tall towers and office buildings. The lifeblood of Fuyuki's economy ran through here, alongside the river, though it was late enough at night that the area was deserted. That made him the only one present with whom Avenger could indulge her warped sense of socialization. Lucky for him that they weren't still at the 'trading barbs and stalking each other' stage.

_This woman... annoying doesn't begin to describe her._

"Hey, asshole." She dug an elbow into his side, and he looked at her. "See anyone yet?"

"No."

He chose not to tell her that he had been idly counting how many times she had asked some variation on the same question. That made twenty-three.

"I swear to _God_," she muttered angrily, "if no one shows up in the next five minutes, I will burn down this entire park. The rules can go fuck themselves."

Emiya took a deep breath as he prepared to concisely deconstruct the entirety of that statement, along with the reasoning behind it. At that moment, he finally sensed something. He looked to the right, and at the far end of the street he saw a figure marching stiffly forward. It was his turn to elbow her in the side.

"_Hey!"_

"Get up," he said as he stood up. "Your fight's arrived."

Her eyes lit up with a sadistic joy, and her lips curled into the cruel smirk she wore so often.

"You're shit at flirting, Emiya," Jeanne said as she rose and stretched. She moved to the middle of the street, smoothing her coat as she did so. "Lucky you. If you were one of those playboys, I'd kill you."

_Good grief, she's a pain in the ass._

A minute of silence passed as they waited for their opponent to slowly make his way over. Emiya considered the man as he drew closer. The man's cloak covered a dark suit with red embroidery, and he wielded both a saber and a long rifle. It was the Berserker they had faced so many nights ago.

"Once more you dare to defile my homeland, interlopers." Berserker spoke with the calm of a man whose rage was a sheathed blade ready to be drawn. "This time, I will have no mercy—"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Avenger interrupted with a roll of her eyes and turned her gaze to him. "Fucking _finally._ I was serious about burning down the park."

Archer refrained from replying.

_Trace on._

His handgun imitations soon settled in his hands, and he was already projecting broken phantasms that would suit the enemy. Caladbolg, an old classic, twisted and screeched in the two barrels, though one could only hear it if they held the guns.

_I am the bone of my sword._

In Berserker's glare, a storm howled.

"You still lack discipline, I see," he said. "But perhaps your skills have improved. With effort, even mercenaries like yourself could manage that, though it will never match the passion of an honorable soldier."

He drew his blade, a katana that sang of hard-fought battles. Emiya traced it and knew a thousand thousand memories and a name that wasn't his.

_Hijikata Toshizo._

Their opponent would not fall until they utterly destroyed him. Perhaps once, he would have felt some regret at that. This man stood by a moral code to the bitter end whereas he... well, better left forgotten.

"I look forward to spilling your entrails," the Berserker said grimly.

"Hope you're more fun than Rider was," Jeanne said with a smirk, throwing her coat aside. It hung in the air for a moment, then burst into black flames as her armor materialized to replace it.

No word, no sound heralded the start of their battle. One moment they were still, and then all parties erupted into motion. Emiya threw himself to the side, firing at his previous location as Berserker simply appeared there, his katana slashing at Avenger. Her own blade rose, locking against his. Berserker snarled and raised his rifle with his other hand, but as fast as he was, Avenger was just as quick.

Using her sword as leverage, she shoved him to her left, in line with the broken phantasm screaming out from Emiya's own weapon. Berserker released her blade and sprang backwards, throwing a kick at her shins as he did so to force her away. He had already drawn up his rifle for a shot at Emiya, and the Archer preemptively rolled to his right as the gun cracked.

Jeanne took the opportunity to lunge at his backside with a yell, but Hijikata quickly twisted and parried the blow, then retreated to keep her between himself and Emiya. Their swords rang as they exchanged several blows in half as many seconds, Jeanne holding her own while Emiya sprinted to the right to achieve a new firing position.

Their enemy stood his ground for a few heartbeats, then abruptly resumed the offensive, driving Jeanne back. Her fighting grin faded, then her lips abruptly opened into a gasp of pain when a gap in her defense allowed him to drive a leg into her belly. The force of the kick threw her back and away, freeing him to charge Emiya as the Archer drew a new magazine from his pouch, locking it in with a click.

Emiya managed to score two shots on the Berserker's side and shoulder before the warrior was upon him. Without his rifle arm, Hijikata wouldn't be able to counter him at range, but that did not diminish his skill in swordplay. Though Emiya switched to holding Kanshou and Bakuya in a sword grip, extending their bayonets to full-combat length, he was no match for the experienced swordsman.

In a few brief moments, Hijikata disarmed him with a strong slash at his unbalanced grip. As Kanshou clattered to the pavement, the Berserker rammed his good shoulder into Emiya's chest. A hard elbow to his solar plexus put the Archer down on the ground, and Emiya wheezed as he struggled to get up. Hijikata put a foot on his side.

"Disappointing," the Berserker said, and then sent him flying with a kick into the adjacent park.

**["Excellence is not an art, it's a habit. We are what we repeatedly do."]**

Jeanne snarled as her ally was driven away, pouncing on the occupied Berserker.

_Figures I'd have to do everything myself. _

The man spun and easily parried her sweeping blade. Despite his injuries, he was just as fast as he engaged her once more, taking every one of her attacks in stride. With every passing second, she could feel him adjusting to further counter her.

She'd just found herself wondering when the fuck Archer was going to stop lazing about and get back into the fight when the Berserker stumbled and then rolled away from her. The storm in his eyes hadn't lessened one bit, and she instantly distrusted both the stumble and his subsequent flight into a nearby office tower. She might even have laughed if anger didn't burn away any amusement she could feel. Fire curled at her fingertips.

"_Maudit lâche!"_ she shouted as she pursued him into the building. The darkness would have been oppressive if not for her flames illuminating the cold marble hallway. He was not within eyesight, but she could feel a vague sense of his direction. He was clearly leading her into a trap and she couldn't care less.

The easiest way to deal with traps was to spring them.

Her heels clacked as she strode towards a set of white double doors. She flung them open, only to see a canister fall in front of her before exploding into bright white light.

Even as the searing pain ate away at her sight, she swept her hand forward in a protective arc of fire. The acrid scent of melting plastic burned her nose as the blaze roared, but the crackling of her own fire stopped her from hearing him. Jeanne rubbed the blinding spots in her vision away, and saw only flames engulfing a large office space. Cubicles melted and disintegrated at the heat, but she saw no—

Only instinct prevented her from being cut in two as she threw herself forward, narrowly dodging Berserker's sword. She hissed as she received a cut across a shoulder, turning and barely managing to bring up her own blade in time to block a follow-up aimed at her neck. His raw strength had multiplied, but she had her own advantage now that she no longer needed to care about drawing attention.

A fireball coalesced in her other hand. She threw it at the first opportunity, forcing him back once more. The resulting explosion blasted a hole in the wall, sending rubble flying everywhere, but her enemy didn't seem to notice. He rushed forwards, feinted a slash, then kicked her in the chest when she tried to parry. The blow sent her tumbling into another cubicle, striking the desk to flip over it before he could behead her.

Flames licked at her heels as she was forced back again and again, their swords furiously clashing with each other as she attempted to maneuver him to a disadvantageous position. She continually flung more of her unholy fire at him, and he easily dodged every blast and took no notice of the rising heat.

_Fils de pute! What will it take to kill this fucker?!_

A heel clacked against the wall. She crouched low to avoid another cut, only to take a knee to her jaw. She cried in pain as her head smashed into the wall, and as she opened her eyes she could see the flash of steel once more approaching her head. Only another hastily summoned pillar of flame prevented her demise, pushing him back for a precious few seconds.

Her lips twisted in a snarl; she wiped the blood from them and snapped her fingers.

Five more pillars of flame joined the first, dancing in a circle around her. Soon they shrunk into dense spheres, screaming in rage to be released as they spun around her, faster and faster.

She smirked. "How do you like me now, dipshit?"

Without a reply, he drew another canister from his pouch and pulled the pin on it.

"_OH YOU FUCK—"_

She saw the light even through closed eyelids. When she forced them open despite the stinging, it was to properly aim her strike, three of the spheres around her merging into a long scythe of flame. A sweep of her hand sent it tearing through the building, walls and equipment melting as she sought to force him into the open. The crash of more cubicle walls alerted her, and she punctured a leather chair in the process of leaping up to spot him. He wasn't looking at her, still staring at the moving arc of fire. Her sword lit up in a blazing inferno to try to take advantage of his distraction.

The sound of the metal igniting drew his attention to her, but even his lightning reflexes weren't fast enough this time. Jeanne grinned viciously as her sword cut across his already wounded arm, painting a long red line along his forearm. She only realized he hadn't even considered dodging when he cut into her thigh with his own blade, forcing her to twist away rather than follow-up. She landed and rolled, feeling the air rush past her as he slashed at where she'd been.

A shot rang out, and the Berserker fell to the ground in an evasive roll of his own. He briefly looked back, his blank expression becoming a scowl, and then leapt to the nearby exit. Another shot barely missed him as he bashed through the doors and vanished from sight.

"Where the fuck were you?" she said as she clambered up, spotting Archer.

**["Do I seem unconquerable to you?"]**

"Occupied," he replied, grunting as agony continued to sear his broken ribs. "Don't run away again. He's at his best when he separates us."

She growled but made no protest.

"What did he do?"

"He's got small explosives that blind you," she said, rubbing at her eyes as she turned to where he had run off. "Be careful when opening doors. Bastard's fast too."

"Flashbangs," Emiya muttered. "I hate flashbangs."

"Join the fucking club," she ground out as she started walking forward. He followed closely as they carefully approached the entrance that the Berserker destroyed in his escape. When nothing exploded, they emerged into a concrete staircase. Archer could feel his presence rising higher and higher, and after indicating such to her they began the long climb up.

Despite the cautious rate of their ascension, they encountered no traps, nor did they meet any obstacle or opposition as they moved from floor to floor. Jeanne muttered occasionally, aggressive statements about tearing Hijikata apart that Emiya paid little mind to.

Finally they saw the top, and Emiya stopped one flight of stairs below the roof. Moonlight glimmered through the exit, but he could hear the soft sound of rain.

"Keep him between you and I," the Archer said. "Don't get in my line of fire. I'll take him down as long as you distract him."

"Sure, if you can kill him before I do," she replied harshly. He shook his head but quietly moved forward, tensing as they approached the door.

"When I get my hands on that—" Jeanne started, but as soon as Emiya gripped the door handle, the walls and roof around them imploded. Jeanne yelled as she wrapped an arm around his torso and threw them both out of the collapsing rubble, although he grunted at her tight grip. It was also thanks to her quick reflexes that Hijikata's blade met an obstacle before it could stab him through the chest.

"You piece of _shit!"_ she shouted at him. The rain was beginning to soak her fine hair, but she paid it no mind as she threw the Berserker away with a hard push from her blade. "I _hate_ bastards like you!"

"You were never taught to fight," Hijikata replied calmly, "and thus you fail to prepare for the obvious."

Jeanne screamed incoherently and flung a wave of fire at the Berserker. He moved aside before it could clip him and easily blocked a follow-up strike when Avenger lunged in with her blade.

"Amateurish," he said as she jumped over his attempt to sweep her legs out from under her, but he quickly found himself under fire from Emiya. The hail of projected lead forced him to dart back. "Were you my subordinates I would have you flogged for failing to learn such obvious lessons."

Their blades clashed in a flurry of blows while Emiya took potshots when he could, but as much as the Avenger raged, she could not connect. The frown on her face grew more and more furious, until something seemed to snap behind her hateful golden eyes. She forced him back with a kick and stretched out her hand, growling as her arm was wreathed in fire.

"_No more!_ This is the howl of a soul drowning in hatred!" She curled her fingers into a fist. "_Le Grondement de la Haine!"_

An avalanche of blazing metal stakes punched through the rooftop, increasing in number as they drew a path toward the Berserker. His dodges were lightning, but the stakes were unrelenting. First his right foot was speared, then his left thigh, and soon a dozen of their brethren had impaled him in multiple places, the fire casting an eerie glow upon his silhouette. Archer had seen wounds like those a thousand times. He couldn't survive.

Jeanne laughed once, letting her hand fall.

"Now you're just a puppet with his strings cut," she stated, taking confident steps towards the Berserker. "At least you made for a better fight than Rider... mostly."

Emiya stood back, waiting. Just because his experience told him that those were mortal wounds, it was no guarantee they would fell a Servant. No, he was much too cautious to believe this over.

His caution was soon rewarded.

"_No..."_ The Berserker's voice was weak, barely a whisper in the rain, but it was audible. Jeanne stopped in her tracks.

"What the _fuck?"_ Jeanne stated eloquently.

"I have not ended..." he continued, his breathing growing heavier, and Emiya began to project a broken Caladbolg once more. This time, he wouldn't miss. "I cannot end... I cannot fall... while the banner of our truth still flies..."

A vicious crunch echoed across the rooftop. Emiya clenched his jaw as the Berserker tore his sword arm out of the bladed prison. The limb had snapped in two, bone fragments sticking out pointedly from the break. But as he proceeded to tear his entire body out, all of the wounds that he had incurred sizzled and healed. Every cut they had put on his body was rapidly disappearing, and the recently broken arm was slowly fusing together once more.

"_No!"_ Jeanne yelled, sprinting forward with her sword pointed out. "I'm not fucking dealing with any final-stand-powerup _bullshit!"_

Archer drew up his sights, preparing to take a shot even as the Avenger entered his sightline. Jeanne thrust her sword at the Berserker's chest, aiming to pierce his heart, but the blade instead found its mark in Hijikata's hand. The soldier had taken the blow full-on through his palm, giving only a grunt of exertion as he managed to hold her blade back solely by pushing back on her cross-guard.

"I _am_ the Shinsengumi," he growled, spittle and blood flying onto Jeanne's face, "and the Shinsengumi is _eternal!"_

He slammed the Avenger back with a vicious headbutt, drawing his bloodied katana once more as she cried out in pain.

"And as long as the Shinsengumi lives on...!"

Emiya frowned as the Berserker narrowly missed slicing off Jeanne's head. He couldn't sustain the broken phantasm's stability for much longer, but neither was there a clear shot. He took the risk, repositioning himself to a better angle and firing the twisted piece of his soul.

Hijikata twisted around, snarling as he raised his own rifle with one hand.

"_I!"_

Archer moved aside as Hijikata fired, his eyes widening as a single shot from that man's rifle managed to hit the bulleted phantasm in mid-air. An explosion of swords tore into reality at the impact point before fading into nothing.

"_WILL NOT!"_

The maddened warrior fell upon him before he could prepare a second phantasm. Archer gasped when Berserker's kneecap drove into his side and a sword hilt rammed his gut.

"_DIE!"_

Emiya was unable to draw back in time before the Berserker disemboweled him. He couldn't hold back the cry of agony, but managed to put some distance between them once more, holding in his guts. Berserker would have pursued, but Jeanne's roar demanded his attention, as he was set upon by the furious Avenger. Two titans of will, one seething with hatred, the other with defiance, clashed together. Emiya would never be able to draw up a good shot, but the agony he knew so well sharpened his wits, and he could see a plan.

"_I am the bone of my sword,"_ he spoke, and his magic circuits surged with a familiar agony. "_My steel is in tatters and my heart bound in frost."_

Even after all of these years, the English was still alien to him, but that was just as apt as it used to be.

Jeanne groaned as Hijikata fired his rifle into her thigh, her balance faltering on the wet concrete, leaving her barely able to parry the oncoming katana blow. Her blade glowed with her unholy fire, rain puffing into steam as it struck, but the flames didn't even make Berserker wince.

"_I have broken over a thousand blades,"_ Emiya continued, using the unoccupied Bakuya to lay down some fire while Kanshou, pressed against his belly wound, was being infused with his aria. With supernatural instincts, the warrior dodged every bullet while continuing to keep the pressure on Avenger.

She was quickly losing ground. Time was running out.

"_Given up hope, thrown away ideals,"_ he said, holding back a grunt as his abdomen flared up in pain again. "_Chipped away at my soul until it was nothing but dust."_

Avenger took another blow to the skull, twisting into a roll and casting more flames at Hijikata even as she held her head from the impact.

"Fucking do it already, Emiya!" she yelled at him, throwing up a barrier of fire to prevent the warrior from taking advantage of the distance to shoot at him again. It only lasted long enough to allow her to close in with Hijikata once more.

"_In the end,"_ he said as Kanshou grew hotter and hotter until the skin of his palms began to redden, then blacken, "_these hands never held anything."_

Taking advantage of an opening, Hijikata thrust his sword into Jeanne's guard and disarmed her, cutting into her wrist as he did so. She cursed in pain and anger, but the Berserker grabbed her by the hair and threw her aside like a ragdoll into the staircase entrance. She slowly struggled to gather her feet on the rain-slick tiles, but his enraged gaze was already focusing on Emiya.

Chambering a broken phantasm once more, Archer lifted his arm...

"_So, as I pray... Unlimited Lost Works."_

...and threw Kanshou at the Berserker as hard as he could. The warrior easily sidestepped the oncoming weapon as he drew his rifle up, firing in quick succession. Emiya choked on blood as the bullet pierced through his lung, the momentum of the blow carrying him to the cement rooftop.

With that lightning speed, the Berserker was already above him, his blade descending in a thrust. Even with unfocused eyes, he knew exactly where Emiya sprawled.

"_This_ is the spirit," he uttered, "of the _Shinsengu—"_

The crack of gunpowder rang out above the rainfall, and Hijikata stopped. He slowly turned his head, finding Jeanne holding a smoking Kanshou with the barrel pointed straight at him. He spat blood.

"Heh," the warrior said, smiling for the first time. "Nice shot... for an amateur."

A long blade erupted from his chest, followed in quick succession by two more from his back. Emiya forced himself up and stumbled to the side, falling down just in time to avoid more and more swords emerging from the warrior. Hijikata let out one final roar, his voice reverberating with a brittle iron will, and then the broken phantasm took full hold of him. His entire body burst into a shower of swords, gore, and golden sparks, joining the pelting rain.

Emiya lay there for a few minutes, slowly breathing with his eyes closed in an attempt to mitigate the excruciating pain that ran throughout his system. The rain helped to cool him down after activating his Reality Marble had taken his body to scorching temperatures. He wasn't healing nearly as fast as he should have, but he had gotten used to his Master's pitiful mana output. The kid was likely unconscious from everything he had done tonight, even with the assistance he had been given in opening his circuits, but it was worth the cost.

"Get up, _connard_."

A nudge from Avenger's boot got him up again. He had been making the mistake of lowering his guard around her far too often recently, but for some reason it didn't bother him as much as it should. Her expression was not happy or joyous, but one of grim satisfaction. She stretched out a hand to him.

He took it, and she easily hauled him up.

"You can't chant any faster?" she muttered as he steadied his posture again. The thrumming pain in his limbs had died down, but his torso was still bleeding and many things remained broken internally.

"No," he replied. "It needs to be kept at a certain rhythm."

"That's almost as stupid as you," she said, but the words had no bite to them. Like him, she'd been pushed to, and past, her limits. He decided not to respond in kind.

They both stood there, quietly breathing, as the sun slowly rose over the horizon and bathed the city in its warm light. For the first time in a long time, Emiya tentatively allowed himself to take pleasure in the feeling of it on his skin. But the moment was quickly ruined by the sound of approaching sirens, and he abruptly remembered that the building was burning down.

"Hmph." Jeanne turned to him with the sharp grin she wore so easily. "Next up is Caster, yeah?"

"Yes," he replied.

"Good," she said. "Let's stomp that bitch and end this. I want to get out of this city already."

A small smirk crawled onto his face.

"Why, so you can finally take your vows and join a cloister?"

"_Va te faire foutre."_

* * *

I can only answer one question right now: Hijikata's "flashbangs" are really just specialized fireworks.

Since Saga began I have been begged to write a chapter about Emiya, Emiya Alter, or Kiritsugu being summoned by Shirou. I'm not sure why, because a) Emiya Grail War exists (it's in my favorites) and b) there isn't really anything interesting about "Fuck me, I got summoned by myself/my son except not really because I don't have the memories of this timeline? This sucks ass." But I did want to do something with Emiya Alter _fighting._ Finally, it hit me one day, and thus we have this chapter. I hope that, even if it wasn't entirely what you were expecting, it satisfies you nonetheless.

I have a few things to plug. First, my direct inspiration and in one sense a companion fic to this: _Gold and Ash_ by **TungstenCat**, who created the entire dynamic of Emiya Alter and Jeanne Alter. It is because that exists that I could even think about writing this, and a little birdie flew up to me recently and whispered in my ear that maybe, just maybe, it might get completed soon. So you're gonna wanna follow it. Second, _The Star and the Darkness_ by **Exstarsis**. I've plugged this a few times before, but I want to point out it's intricately linked with her other story _Razorblade Rain_ and that the plot has grown from shipping Nightingale and Dantes together to a rewrite of Salem and the Lostbelt Prologue. The latest chapter in particular was _really cool__,_ and didn't get nearly the reception it deserved, so please throw some love her way.

Third, I usually detest doing this, but I want to let you know that I published some works recently that you might like. _Two Sides of a Sesterce_ was completed today, a story about Boudica and Nero getting the emotional resolution that the games never really gave them. Hint: it involves lots of sex. It was written almost entirely by **TungstenCat**, so you know it's going to be quality. The other thing I published is _Rust, Dust & Guts_, a Fate/stay night crossover with DOOM Eternal. No, I'm not joking, even though this was actually meant to be the April Fool's chapter for Saga. If those words excite you in any capacity, give it a look.

Fourth, _Defiance_ by **Magery**. Remember that scene in the Babylonia anime where Ushiwakamaru kicked the shit out of Gorgon? Did you cry at that for inexplicable reasons? Well, I did. Magery figured out why and put it in a fic, and holy hell y'all, I cried all over again. Magery writes a lot of good stuff, so if you have the time, take a look at it.

I get a lot of PMs with requests and questions and such. I dunno if y'all know, but FFN no longer sends email notifications when you get PMs due to security issues. Thus, the best way you have of reaching me is through my Discord. You can find the invite code on my profile. This is going to get you the fastest guaranteed response from me.

Thanks once again to all the Loresingers, and in particular **Kat-2V**, who specifically edited every fight scene to make them flow perfectly. That guy knows how to make combat flow, and I'm very lucky to be able to work with him.

I don't have an ending theme for you, instead I have two chapter themes to listen to that I listened to while I was writing this. First is _Something Memorable_ by **Kn1ght**. If you are familiar with the context for that song, pieces of this chapter might make a little more sense to you. The second is _Inferno_ by **Mick Gordon**. Yes, that Mick.

Okay, that was a lot of words and my hands are going numb. Thanks for reading.


	38. Circe

"Senpai, who is this?"

Shirou opened his mouth, but his improvisational skills were severely lacking, and until ten minutes ago he'd been hoping the night before was nothing but a dream. He cast a pleading glance into his kitchen, but Caster merely raised an eyebrow at him, cast an glance at Sakura, and ducked down to continue her rifling through his cabinets.

"This is, umm... Caster. She was a friend of Kiritsugu's from…" he trailed off, scrambling for something more as Sakura's brow furrowed.

"Ah, there it is!"

Both Sakura and Shirou turned as Caster threw a giant cast-iron pot onto the stove. She smiled towards the pair and leaned on the counter. "Greece, by the way. I'm from Greece, and I'll be staying with Shirou for a spell. I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name?"

Sakura's shoulders fell just a little as Caster's attention hit her. "S-Sakura."

The witch nodded and returned to her work, pulling out a bag of oats from his pantry—_I don't remember ever buying that—_and pouring some into a measuring cup. "Well, Sakura, it's a pleasure to meet you. If you're over so early, I assume you're staying for breakfast?"

Sakura took a few tentative steps towards the kitchen."Well, um, usually Senpai and I—"

"Ah, Sakura, Caster said she'd handle cooking today," Shirou spoke up, putting himself between her and the kitchen. He had already attempted a similar discussion with Caster and ended up being banished to the table, but he found a surprising feeling of warmth in how insistent she was on taking care of him. It was… nice.

The girl leaned closer to him and whispered, "Senpai, she's cooking for you and living with you? That's... that's—!"

"She's only here for a couple weeks at most!" he hissed. "Besides, she's just here for work! The old man used to put her up all the time!"

"Mm…" Sakura's jaw set in the same subtle way it did when she first inserted herself into his life. She pushed past him into the kitchen and fell into place beside Caster. "I'll help. I've always wanted to learn how to make some Mediterranian dishes."

Even as Sakura invaded her workspace, the witch placed the lid on the pot with a sharp clang of finality. "It's boiling now, there's nothing more to do."

"I'll prepare the bowls—"

"I've already done that," Caster replied, her smile still present. "Please, don't worry about it."

The two stood facing each other for a tense moment. Sakura looked away first, turning her attention to the porcelain.

"There are only two bowls."

Caster lifted the lid and stirred the porridge. "I didn't know you were coming."

Sakura moved into the kitchen proper, sliding behind Caster and pulling a pan out. She set up next to the other woman on the stove, standing nearly shoulder to shoulder with her. If his Servant was bothered by this, Shirou couldn't tell.

"Senpai, you should've told Caster how many people she was serving," Sakura chided, glancing over the other cook's shoulder at the gruel. "That won't be enough for four people, so I'll make something to go along with it."

Caster's stirring halted. "I'm quite well acquainted with preparing feasts. I'll adjust my portion accordingly."

Sakura smiled sweetly at her. "Oh no, it's nothing to worry about! I've been cooking for Sensei and Senpai for a year now, so I'm more than capable of whipping up something I know they'll like."

The witch tilted her head and started moving the ladle back and forth again.

"Senpai has a big day today, as always," Sakura continued as she grabbed a couple of eggs and cracked them into a bowl, "and he has a bit of a weak stomach when it comes to unfamiliar meals, so it might be better if I handle his food."

Shirou's brows creased in confusion. _What's Sakura saying? She and Taiga were the ones who nicknamed me 'The Cast-Iron Stomach' after I ate the peanut-butter-octopus dish from that street vendor!_

"Sakura—" he started.

"SHIROU, BREAKFAST TIME!" Taiga entered like a storm full of dynamite, and Shirou had the dreaded realization that he still hadn't thought of a good excuse for Caster's presence.

**[Temptress]**

"See you at school, Shirou!" Taiga rolled off on her scooter, the daily reminder that he also had to get ready.

"Alright, I'm off to school!" Shirou called, realizing just now how nice it was that Caster was doing the dishes he and Sakura usually did. "Thank you again for breakfast!"

He turned to Sakura, leaning against the gate with her head tilted downwards, and clambered to figure out how he'd smooth things over. Caster and Sakura had gotten off on the wrong foot. Shirou would admit that he didn't consider Sakura's feelings when Caster offered to cook for him… they shared a lot of memories making breakfast together before school, after all, and in Sakura's eyes it probably seemed like betraying a tradition.

"Sakura, I—"

His foot had barely left the front step when he felt a small hand grab his collar and pull him back.

"What do you think you're doing?" Caster asked with an edge in her voice. The sharpness reminded Shirou that this small girl was the same person who, just the night before, called lightning bolts from the heavens and summoned shadow hounds on the blonde spearman hunting him down.

"I'm… going to school?" he replied.

She grit her teeth. "Are you daft?! With me here? You're leaving me here, alone, to—" Caster cut herself off as Sakura looked over. "One moment, please!" she called to the other girl, before pulling Shirou back inside and slamming the door.

"Caster, what—"

"Shh!" Caster firmly pressed a finger to his lips. "You can't just go places!" she hissed. "What if a servant attacks you? I can't protect you fully if you leave! As a Caster, my specialities are in setting up a sanctum and working from there, so if you _leave _you ruin the whole point!"

Shirou pushed her hand away. "Well, I can't just not go to school!"

"I can teach you more than that place ever could!"

He sighed. "I honestly can't even believe you're older than me!"

"Well _excuse_ me! I'm _only_ an ancient witch, the magnitude of whose accomplishments lie far outside of the realm of your knowledge!" Caster's cheeks puffed out and she crossed her arms. "Is staying with me such a burden?"

Shirou balked. "Wait, what?"

She stopped and took a deep breath. She bowed her head. "I'm sorry. I was rude to your kouhai, and for that I apologize. I understand if you don't want to be around me anymore, so just go."

"Listen, Caster," he scratched the back of his head, "it's not like that at all. I really appreciate all you've been doing for me, on top of saving my life, but I've gotta go to school."

"Yeah, no, it's fine, I get it," she pouted. "You'll just be putting yourself and everyone else in the area at risk if you do, but that's fine. Go. Leave me."

Shirou's stomach dropped. "What?"

"Leave me, I said. Go on. I can handle it." Caster turned her back on him and stalked back towards the living room.

"No, Caster, what was that about putting everyone at risk?"

"Oh?" She stopped and tilted her head at him. "Well, obviously, if a Servant attacks you while you're at school, there will be collateral damage."

Shirou jolted. "But Tohsaka said there were rules about that!"

"Rules are made to annoy the strong. With enough power, though, you can cut through them with ease." She turned to face him fully. "Are you willing to count on those rules when the lives of your classmates are at stake?"

"I…" Shirou grit his teeth.

There was a knock at the door. "Um… Senpai? We're going to be late if you take any longer."

Caster cocked an eyebrow and shrugged, her demeanor icy. "Shall I have dinner ready for when you get home, Master?"

Shirou hesitated, eyes flicking between the door and his Servant. Caster met his gaze head-on, unflinching, and Shirou finally relented. "I-I'm going to stay home to help Caster get adjusted. Just for today, though! I'll walk with you tomorrow!"

He watched Sakura's shadow deflate through the screen. She was silent for a long moment. "...alright. Tomorrow, then."

Shirou listened to her footsteps recede down the walkway, standing opposite of Caster until the sound faded into the background noise. This war… why did he have to completely give up his normal life when he didn't even ask to be a part of it? He could save people, yes, and he was saving people now, but why did it feel so painful?

Caster stepped forward and pulled him into a hug. "You made the right choice. This is the best way to make sure no one else gets hurt, Master."

He stiffened in her embrace. "Let's finish this war quickly."

Caster held him at arm's length and smiled. "Of course, Master! You can count on me, I'll handle everything!"

**[****Sorceress]**

Caster spent most of that afternoon taking stock of the Emiya residence and setting up her sanctum. Shirou followed along, watching in awe as she placed various complex seals, wards, and traps around the estate. He hadn't seen much magecraft, granted, but he at least gleaned a vague idea of what the two spells Tohsaka launched at him did by watching her cast them. Caster's magic wove into a tapestry of such precision and beauty that he couldn't even think of where to begin deconstructing it.

When he ventured to ask, she puffed out her chest with a smirk. "Fufufu, so you _do_ want to know more about my arcane ways, hm?" Caster held up a finger, her entire demeanor shifting. "You'll need many more lifetimes before you can even communicate on my level, Master, but don't worry! I'll give you a lesson once I am done with the basic infrastructure."

Now with a bit of a spring in her step, Caster continued her tour of the mansion, explaining each layer to her new pupil. "Of course, rapid spell casting is a requirement for any battle. The magus who gets their spell out first wins, but that's not all. Listen."

A flurry of ancient dialect went in Shirou's ear and out the other. He didn't have time to blink, let alone comprehend, as a magical sigil burned into the empty space of the Emiya estate's gate. It hung in the air for a moment before fading away.

"The first stanza specified the area affected, while the second and third specified effects."

Shirou's eyes widened. "There were separate stanzas in that?"

She sighed, shaking her head. "And here I even emphasized the pauses for you to understand… ah, Master, what a novice you are!" She grinned up at him. "Wonderful! I'll make a magus out of you yet!"

Caster's staff blinked into existence and she slammed it into the earth. Six lines of illegible script scratched itself into the dust, and Caster poked the fourth line.

"This line from the third stanza initiates a powerful, loud blast of magic that will warn us of intruders and, possibly, slow down an enemy servant for a second or two. However, it is so sensitive to magical manipulation that even setting it up can trigger it; were I not capable of rapid casting, setting this ward would do a bit more than singe my feathers."

"The fifth line," she pointed to it like a teacher at a blackboard, "is what allows me to finish laying the trap. The wrap up, as it were. Conditions, effect, wrap up, those are the main components of wards and traps. If you don't reach the wrap up quickly enough, BOOM!"

Caster's wings flourished, shining in the midday sun. "Catastrophe! Fufufu! See, Master, this is what separates a good magi from a great witch like myself. I—well, actually, the main separator is that I can perform actual magic, which is sort of beyond the point because I'm using magecraft for this anyways to give you the opportunity to learn it for yourself, but..."

Caster's voice rang like chimes in the wind, her enthusiasm filling Shirou with a warmth he couldn't remember experiencing at any other point in his life. In that moment where Caster bubbled with excitement, her hands turned to the sky and a wide smile on her face, Shirou felt time hang in the air. His confused furrow loosened into a content grin; watching her in her element, passionately explaining her magecraft, comforted him somehow. He didn't understand a word of it, but he felt like he could sit there for hours and just _listen _to her…

"Hey, Masterrr!"

Suddenly Shirou was sitting on the wooden veranda overlooking his courtyard. The setting sun painted the world orange, a peaceful painting he'd gazed at with Kiritsugu many times. "Yes, Caster?"

"You were zoning out!" She nudged his shoulder with hers and leaned in. "I asked if I could build a pigpen back here!"

"A-A what?!"

Caster's cheeks puffed out. "Don't make me say it a third time! I hate repeating myself!"

"W-well…" Shirou couldn't think of a pigpen as anything but a logistical nightmare. Immediately, a section of the courtyard would be ruined aesthetically. Wasn't this war only supposed to last a couple of weeks? What would he do with the pigs afterwards? What did Caster want to do with pigs in the first place!?

"Why a pigpen?"

"I'm glad you asked!" Caster stood up and faced him, hands on her hips. "Would you say you've been feeling tired since last night?"

"Umm…" Now that he thought about it, his limbs were feeling heavier than usual. "Yes?"

"Of course you have! You summoned me, a great and mythical Caster of legend! Just tying me to this plane is surely a drain on your meager mana supply." She rubbed her chin as a sly smile grew on her lips. "Now, Master, would you call yourself a moral human being?"

"I do everything I can to be one, yes." Even though he knew she was trying to sell him something, Shirou responded with absolute confidence. If he knew anything, being a hero of justice required him to be moral.

"Good! As you should be! In a world where the gods follow selfish whims and mortals struggle to get by, you are a step above! Truly, someone interesting enough to deserve my curiosity and love!"

"L-Love?!"

"Off-topic!" Caster held her staff up to his mouth. "Now, other magi in your position might engage in evil acts such as having their servants drain the life force of other humans to make up the difference."

"What?!" Shirou shot to his feet. "We have to make sure that doesn't happ—"

"Shh, shh, shh," Caster's hand rested on his shoulder and gently pushed him back into a seated position. "We will, I promise. I, unfortunately, am too weak to live up to that promise at the moment, but there is a solution!"

Shirou's eyes narrowed. "... pigs?"

"Pigs!" she exclaimed. "The perfect solution! Of course, I wouldn't be killing them, and I would give them time to recover between drainings. I'd also feed them, clean the pen, give them water, everything you could think of!"

"Well…" Shirou thought about it. Still a logistical nightmare, but if that was what it took to give Caster the power to finish this war quickly and with minimal casualties… "I'm not sure how quickly I can get one built, or where to find any pigs, for that matter—"

"Oh, Master, I'll handle all of that! I'll have you know, I'm no newcomer to taking care of livestock." Caster giggled, a soft, prideful sound like the ringing of church bells. "Fufufu, you don't have to worry about a thing!"

**[Enchantress]**

Circe skipped out into the courtyard, enjoying the crisp morning air and singing to herself.

"Pi-pi-pi-pi-pi-pi-g-let, oh, I-I-I-I-I love you~!"

It truly was a wonderful morning. Her new pigpen had its first inhabitant! The gilt was a bit timid around her, flinching away as she tried to pet her, but that would change with time. Circe had a natural talent with animals, after all, and this one was a font of magical energy.

"Lucky!" she grinned and poured some of her homemade feed into the trough. "Eat up, piglet!"

The sound of feed hitting metal did nothing to drown out the absolute tongue-lashing Shirou was getting from Taiga. Apparently missing school was a big deal or something… how stupid! Her master was as dumb as a brick when it came to magic, and didn't have much people-sense, either, so what good was that school doing for him in the first place? There probably wasn't much she would be able to do to keep him home today…

How annoying it was, being left behind. She clicked her tongue.

"Are you lonely, piglet?" she asked the gilt, currently rooted in place at the opposite side of the small pen. "Is that why my food doesn't entice you? Well…" Circe crouched down and looked into the pig's black eyes, a wistful smile on her lips. "I've been lonely all my life. Friends, travellers, they always end up leaving, don't they? Sometimes… you just want to build a pen around them and keep them all for yourself."

Taiga's voice cut through the still air. "You're coming to school, Shirou, and that's final! You'll have more than enough time to help your guest adjust this weekend!"

"Maybe I should get you a friend," the witch mused. "I don't want you to be lonely, after all."

Shirou opened the sliding door behind her and stepped out with an adorably sheepish look on his face. "Hey, Caster, umm…"

She stood and grinned at him. "I heard from here, Shirou. It's alright, I'll be right behind you."

He nodded. "Thanks."

As he disappeared back into the house, Circe looked over her shoulder at the shivering piglet. "You'll want to eat, by the way. That feed has wormer in it, and will certainly make your stay more pleasant."

Circe dusted her hands in satisfaction as she walked. Just before she followed the boy inside, she paused on the threshold.

"I'll make sure Shirou is well-fed in your absence, piglet."

* * *

This chapter was written by my good friend and Loresinger Endy, better known as **nd7878**. Here's what he has to say.

"Hi all, it's me, Endy, aka **nd7878**. Thanks for reading my chapter! Shoutout to the man himself, Pallan Minerva, for both letting me do this in the first place and being so helpful getting it together. This idea was conceived not even five days ago at this point, quickly turned around. More shoutouts outs **KentaKazami** and **TungstenCat** for some exceptional editing help, and the Loresingers as a whole for being very cool in the development process.

The ending theme of this chapter is _An Ill Omen_ by **Yasunori Nishiki**."

Thanks for reading.


	39. Nursery Rhyme

"Okay, let's see what we have here..."

Alice, as she preferred to be called, took a deep breath and reached inside of herself. Her self-image, human artifice and all, was barely skin-deep, and piercing through the veil wasn't very hard. Her hand searched for her heart, took it in her fist, and pulled it out. She let out a gasp as the old tome came out of her chest, covered in blood-red time-stains and soul-dust.

"W-What are you—" her Master coughed viciously, his shattered arm helplessly lying over the edge of the bed as he tried to look at her.

"Shh, it's okay." She scooted a little closer to him and lay against the bedframe, putting her open hand on the mattress. After a few moments, his own hand took hers and squeezed. It was much lighter than the gentle grip he used to hold her hand with. A gray memory seeped into her vision, and she had to desperately blink away the sight of Alice's glazed eyes. "I'm going to find a way to help you."

He coughed again, but made a noise that sounded like he understood. She squeezed his hand again and let go, taking herself in hand once more. She was made up of a trillion trillion volumes, with orders of magnitude more chapters and sections and stanzas that all dribbled out to make _something._ In that _something,_ there had to be _something _that could help Shirou.

She couldn't lose another Master again. Never again.

The pages flipped as she spun through book after book, titles rushing past her and being discarded as soon as she saw them. Geology was useless, anatomy was too slow and taught her nothing, but the magic of fiction had to hold something. There had to be—

She stopped. The answer was so obvious, and there it lay before her.

_The Saga of Shirou's Summons._

She took a deep, shaky breath and opened to the first page.

_Glass shards tore through his school uniform as Shirou threw himself through the window. As he landed and rolled on the soil, fragments of glass sliced through his left hand while his other hand still—_

Alice shut the book. It was so wrong, so absolutely alien, that even someone like her found it abhorrent. Shirou's pained moan reminded her what she was doing. She opened it again and flipped through the pages blindly.

_"We're going somewhere today before we return home," she stated._

_"Illya will be unhappy if we're not home on time," he countered, though he knew that it was futile._

_"She has dealt with many unpleasantries in her life." Her lips curved upwards, barely enough to be a mockery of happiness. "One more of a minor nature will not kill her."_

The page tore in her hand, a rip in the language and in the unreality that both was and was not.

_No, no, I have to stop letting it get to me. Disconnect._

The artifice she imagined in her mind took its heart out, as she had removed her own, placing it in a wooden chest with a golden lock. She inhaled, felt the wooden box settle on her tongue, and let it disappear on her exhale.

She turned to another page.

_"Kill me, you most cruel of heroes. With those hands, you glorify yourself as a savior of innocent lives. But when the cold light of the morning illuminates you, all you will find is the tears and broken hearts you have left in your wake."_

_"One man's hero is the villain of another saga," Lancer replied with unusual softness. "We can't do anything but fulfill the roles we have."_

_His spear went straight through her chest, but the only sign of injury she gave was a cough of blood. Droplets carved down the indents of her face, slowly falling to the floor._

_"Then I will pray for you, valiant heroes..." she spoke as loud as she could, though Shirou could hear how her lungs were slowly filling with blood. "I will pray that the gods will ruin your lives... as you have ruined mine..."_

Useless, pointless. Unhelpful. Another page, another chapter.

_And either way meant his ideals, what was left of them... were merely a way to convince himself that he was not, ultimately, at fault. Be it some higher game of the Grail or merely the toothless smile of chaos, selflessness and sacrifice to do the Right Thing..._

_...meant nothing if it was not reciprocated. To face evil and cling to one's ideals regardless of the cost was not selfless. It was as evil as anything Zouken had done, because it presupposed that the reward and the righteousness of such outweighed the cost._

_As he gazed at the shattered and tormented form of Sakura, and then back to the sky, he wondered how he had ever thought such a thing could be true._

She turned and looked at the boy behind her, desperately gasping as he stared up to the ceiling. He struggled to protect someone who was designed to protect him, he demanded to save those who would see him dead, a purity twisted into a prison. She wanted to feel pity right now, she wanted him to feel her desire to see him succeed.

As it was, all she felt was a renewed determination as his expression twisted in agony. He turned to her.

"Caster...?" he asked, a thousand unspoken questions in his eyes.

"I'll save you," she said, and turned back to the book. She drowned him out with the words on the page.

"_No, no, please," he was mumbling as he racked his brain trying to figure out some way to heal her to help her to save her he needed to save her he needed to "Please don't go. Please. I need you."_

"_Thank you... for saying that..." Her smile was so painful and he could feel tears falling down. "I should have known... it was just one long dream..." _

_He drew closer because her whisper was growing fainter. One soft hand touched his cheek, and instinctively he clutched at it, even as it faded away. _

"_You really... can't... save... everyone... dummy..."_

_Tamamo's smile didn't die even as she did, even as she disintegrated into aureate ashes, even as he lost her._

"_No no no no—"_

_And then there was nothing left of her._

"_Please no please come back please—"_

_And then there was nothing left in him._

There was nothing valuable to find in that kind of tragedy. She turned the page.

_**"You are prepared to meet your death head-on, young hero?" **__he said after a few moments of silence. _

_Shirou nodded._

_"I'm only ready for it because I'll have you there," he replied._

_**"Hmph."**_ _Heracles held out his massive hand. __**"Then our fates are entwined together, Shirou Emiya. I hope to see you on the Fields of Elysium."**_

She turned the page.

_The afternoon sun bathed him in a thin sheen of sweat, the kind that stuck to your skin and plucked at your pores until you were overcome by the desperate need for cleansing. Shirou was used to this feeling—Raiga had asked him for outdoor help on multiple occasions, and summertime was unrelenting in Fuyuki—but he wasn't used to it in February, and certainly not while it was snowing._

_Of course, his body disagreed, and as he trembled in the crane pose he had held for the past hour, he sent a pleading gaze at Caster to allow him some relief._

_Her smile, bright and blinding as a statue of the laughing Buddha, was his only answer._

Nor could she see anything in the stickiness of such a pastoral life. But she couldn't give up. There had to be _something_ in here.

She turned the page.

"_As for how I found out about this little... 'detective club' of yours?"_

_The figure cloaked in the shadows took one step outward, and a small flame came alive only to light the end of a curved wooden pipe. For a moment, Shirou could see the flame's reflection in a pair of smiling green eyes. _

"_Why, it's elementary, my dear."_

She turned the page.

_He coughed through the tightening of his throat, trying to hold back unbidden tears. _

_The soft breathing of his Servant, curled up into his side, was what helped him walk out of the nightmare. It was her existence, the fact that she needed him, that helped him anchor his mind. He wasn't allowed to be weak. He needed to be a hero._

_His breathing slowed down from its near-hyperventilatory pace to the norm, and finally he sighed, calm once more. _

"_I swear to you, Foreigner," he quietly repeated his promise to her as he ran a hand through her thin blonde hair, "I won't let anyone or anything hurt you."_

She turned the page.

_The alleyways were haunted, Shirou realized. Not by ghosts or a tangible threat, but a sense of disease, like influenza infecting an open wound in the air. The night sky was pulsing with lighting and thunder like a heartbeat, atria that pounded on his ears. He tasted blood, even though he knew he wasn't bleeding. _

"_Am I...?"_

"_No."_

_He spun, and a creature was behind him. Humanoid, towering over him, one long thick column of black cloth that led up to a warped plague mask resembling a bird. _

"_This is an echo of a moment," the being continued, a voice that twisted through pitch as a snake twisted through rabbit burrows. "Best be on your way, traveller. This is not a station any stop at, for good reason."_

_He could see a glint, a spark of a smirk, in the red glass that covered the eye sockets. _

"_How do I—"_

"_Pretend it is a dream," it said. "Be quick. The haruspices patrol these streets, and any who are found are assumed to be... well, you will live longer not knowing and not learning."_

_Shirou felt as if someone had punched him in the gut, and he curled over his chest. The world died and was reborn, seven dimensions curled in crystalline madness. Star-sickness arose in his throat and he hurt and his head pounded and he could feel end-time turn into beginning-time as the supernova transformed into a black hole, a singularity of suffering—_

She turned the page again.

_He took one step forward and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into a hug. She stopped._

_"Saber?" he asked again as rain poured onto the two of them. "I'm here. Please tell me you're okay."_

_He could feel her breathe, and as he patted her on the back to try to... help somehow, he heard her hiccup once._

_"Praetor...?" Her voice was unnaturally soft, scared. "Oh... I'm..."_

_"Nero," he said, "let's go inside, please. You're going to catch your death out here if you stay out much longer."_

_"Heh..." She took a deep breath and hugged him back. "I... yes, I suppose we should go inside."_

And she turned the page again.

"_Hmph." A small smirk tugged at the Archer's lips. "That sort of insolence would get one of my citizens whipped, if not killed, but I will forgive you this once, Faker. This moment is too grand to be ruined by such trivial matters. Now..."_

_He turned to Kiara._

"_Beast of Humanity, you have tread upon my garden, my property, and attempt to mark it as your own as a canine marks its territory. Your stench is foul, and your clumsy attempts to prevent the King from reclaiming his land are laughable. You no longer have a right to exist. At the very least, you can give the King a fight worthy of being recorded."_

"_You are simply adorable, Sumerian demi-god." She replied, her smile not falling as she put a hand on her cheek. "Goodness me, I could just eat you up."_

And she turned the page again.

_It earned its name as a _Holy _Grail. It certainly appeared as such, suffused with light and tender with wishes as it manifested. Shirou stared at the corpse of his once-sister and allowed it to descend into his grasp, delicately holding it as he never did to her when she was alive. _

"_Well, young boy?"_

_Shirou turned and met the gaze of the fake priest, his eyes laughing humorlessly. _

"_Yes," he replied, throwing the cup to the priest and walking to Lancer's side. The Spear at the End of the World was drawn at her side, her steed huffing in annoyance at Kotomine's presence, and her emerald eyes were empty of empathy or regret. "I'll destroy it, as my father failed to."_

"_And you will succeed where he failed?"_

"_If he fails," the Lion King said, "then the cycle continues, and I will immortalize him alongside me as the eternities fold and deform."_

_She looked down at him, a small spark of life in her gaze._

"_I will not lose you again, Shirou."_

She turned the page one last time, exhausted.

"_Okay, let's see what we have here..."_

_Alice, as she preferred to be called, took a deep breath and reached inside of herself. _

Alice slammed the book shut, her jaw clenched tightly. She thought she had thrown the wooden box away, but it was still there, and now she could feel everything she had locked up inside pour out of it again.

"No..." she whispered. "This doesn't end with me. No. I can't—I won't—I _refuse!"_

Her heartbeat—a pulsing sound that shouldn't exist, for Alice was but the shadow of an imitation of someone real—grew erratic, and all of the air in her lungs seemed to abandon her. Her chest felt so, so tight, and the walls closed in on her. Her eyes stung as fierce tears fell onto the floor.

"I... I-I can't..."

A hand landed weakly on her shoulder, and she gasped. It was warm where she was cold, and even though it barely moved, she could feel the effort being put in to try to assure her. He was _still trying to save her._

"It's... okay..." his faint voice still held fragments of his brittle iron will. She latched onto those fragments and clutched them tightly to her heart, however fake it might be.

She sniffled, wiped at her eyes, and placed her hand on top of his.

"Yes," she said. "It will be okay. I promise."

She breathed slowly for a few moments, centering herself again. His presence, his touch, was what she needed for that, and she was more thankful for it than ever before.

Reaching over to his nightstand, she took a pen that lay at its edge, and picked up the book once more as she uncapped it. She turned its pages until she came to a blank one, and her grip on the pen tightened as her throat choked.

"It doesn't matter if it's fake, or if you're fake," she said aloud, more to reassure her than her Master. "An imitation can surpass an original. Write your own solution, and replace this reality with your own."

She took a deep breath and put the pen to the page.

* * *

I don't take requests.

The way Saga is structured allows me to write the premise for a chapter as soon as I get an idea. Its freeform nature means I can create whatever I want, at any point in time that I want, because I don't bother with constructing all the events that led up to that moment. I only want to write that scene or that scenario. However, even with such a small amount of necessitated material, I often find myself struggling to create full chapters that completely fill the vision I had or even feel right.

I don't take requests.

Thus, we have Nursery Rhyme. This chapter is filled with chapter fragments; some of which you have already seen, some of which you may see in the future, and some of which you will never see anything more than what is here. I am sure you would love to see some of these continued. I cannot tell you if they will be. I am a simple and shallow writer. I can even tell you that it's possible none of the currently existing storylines will ever get another chapter, let alone be finished.

I don't take requests.

But I also want you to understand—besides the fact that I don't take requests—that I enjoy writing these. I love creating these little moments, even if I so often cannot follow through with them. They are meaningful to me, and even moreso is when I learn that they _inspire_ others. I don't take requests, but I will always ask you, "What is stopping you from writing it yourself?" If you feel you cannot follow through, try anyway. Fail and try again. Learn from your mistakes. Ask how you can become better. Try, try, try again. You may not become successful, but _you_ are the person who knows your vision best. You may not have the tools to define it as clearly as authors with more experience, but you can gain them and bring your vision to life... all I ask is that you try to.

Thanks to the Loresingers for their help, in particular to **Exstarsis** for inspiring me to take all of these little chapter fragments and give them a moment to shine. Check out her slice-of-life fic, _The Regulars__,_ for some easy casual interactions between all the Servants of the Fifth Grail War, plus a little bit of intrigue. In addition, if you are into RWBY, I suggest checking out **Kat-2V**'s _She Who Fights Monsters_ for a piece that focuses on a character that deserves so much more backstory than she's given. I, myself, am not very much into RWBY, but I know that Kat is a good writer, and having written and completed another successful fic titled _Professor Arc: Student of Vacuo_, I trust in him to create something good.

Your ending theme is _A Moment Lost_ by **David Nevue**.

Thanks for reading.


	40. Semiramis

**[Friendship is found by sharing tribulation]**

Shirou looked down at his hand out of habit. Three faded red marks marred the back, designating him as a Master in this war. One had disappeared almost entirely, its outline more like a scar than a sign of magecraft. The other two looked like dull drops of poison spreading across his skin. Each was tipped with a pointed end, representing the connection between him and his Servant. Now the red marks were dull and the pain muted rather than burning as they had earlier.

"You going to be alright there?" Archer sneered. "You basically just lost the Holy Grail War." Archer held Taiga in his arms, the woman still asleep from the magecraft that had captured her.

"Shut up," Shirou replied tiredly. He didn't have the energy to verbally spar with him. Not when he was wounded.

"No words for an ally?" The man seemed to take pride in pissing him off. "After tonight you'll just be on the sidelines. I hope you stay there, though I doubt you can simply stand by when you give up everything for a stupid dream of being a hero."

"What do you even know about it?! If you were there, we wouldn't have been ambushed by Caster!" Shirou pointed his scarred hand at Archer. "We could have won if you were at that battle! Instead, I lost Assassin!"

"Indeed." Archer grinned. "_You_ lost Assassin. Rin would never have been so weak as to give up her chance at winning the grail. Even without a Servant she can handle herself. She can think her way through a problem. You just played right into Caster's hands."

The Servant stopped walking a hundred feet from the entrance to the Emiya home. "I don't have to protect you anymore, Shirou Emiya. I can finally fight this war the way it was supposed to be fought from the beginning. Without your influence making it difficult for Rin to fight without taking into account your worthless attributes."

_Enough!_

"You abandoned the idea that you could save anyone!" Shirou yelled. "What gives you the right to lecture me when you almost let Rin die tonight?! You're her Servant! If she died, you would lose the war too!" Before he could go on, Archer shoved the unconscious Taiga into his arms.

"You are right about one of those things, Shirou Emiya," Archer responded. "I am no Good Samaritan. I hope you live a long life and die old and infirm." He said it like it was a curse, fading away into the night.

Shirou carried Taiga the rest of the way to his house. Within, though barely perceptible, he saw the signs of his Servant's presence. The garden he had cultivated had dead patches from her poisons. Cut marks scored his walls, which he would have to fix later. The sliding door panel to the outer yard was slashed open, repaired using some industrial glue. A few new flowers grew around the edge of the property. They all had thick purple petals with orange stems. She had called them lilies, but they were unlike any flowers he had ever seen before. More signs of how he had just thrown all of that away.

He clutched Taiga closer, taking her into one of the bedrooms and shutting the door. Then he went to change out of his bloody shirt, groaning as he pulled it off. "I'm going to need to buy more."

But that wasn't what annoyed him the most. That was… this entire Grail War. He never wanted to be part of it, and once he committed to preventing people from dying, he found out that what he'd summoned was only good at killing. She could do nothing else.

Shirou slumped against the bed, clenching his fists. He was out of mana, out of the war, and out of luck. "She was wrong," he murmured. "She has to be wrong." And yet here he was, unable to stop what he insisted was more important than winning the war.

"I wasn't wrong." Her words made him look up, the voice of his Servant so close he could already feel bile in his throat. "Nor do I blame you for what you did."

There she was. Her dress brushed the floor, and her hair almost touched the ground in dark waves. Her golden eyes and elfin ears seemed to stand out brighter in the darkness of his room.

"Assassin!" He backed up, his neck touching his back wall. She made no move to attack him, not like before.

"Shirou." Her voice was as melodious as ever. "I always knew you would sacrifice me, given a powerful enough motivation. Caster simply guessed correctly." She brought up a hand, a large spike extending from her palm. "You truly have the heart of an Assassin within you."

"I refuse to accept that."

"I am a Queen, Shirou. Even if you refuse to accept it, I know better. Deep within your heart, there is a part of you that may or may not emerge. A side of you that will stop valuing all life the same, and finally desire something more for yourself than what you currently have."

"I am not like Archer," Shirou said harshly.

"I did not say you were," she replied, giving him a neutral look. "I just want you to recognize that we are not so different."

"I don't want to talk about this." There hadn't been a single conversation between himself and his Servant that had gone well. She was a queen, and brilliant in her own right. He felt like every single word that left her lips was intended to cause harm to something. "Why are you here?"

"Caster is my new Master, as you so effectively decided. She has asked me to make certain that you stay out of the rest of the Grail War." The Servant had snuck into his home and into his room without him noticing. He was outclassed in every way. "The command seal you spent to prevent me from using my poisons is no longer in effect." He once again glanced over the scar-like mark left from spending one of his three command seals.

He unconsciously flinched, his injuries reminding him of the battle he only escaped less than an hour before. "What are you going to do?"

"Whatever I want. That's the power of being a Queen. You were smart enough not to go against my whims while I was your Servant. Now, it is a different story. I can access as much mana as I need. I no longer need to subsist on the dregs you provide." She didn't seem pleased to say that. "I've been ordered to return by morning, having guaranteed that you won't be a problem for the rest of the Grail War. Caster was impressed with you, you know." She twirled one of her long braids, the end tipped with a certainly poisonous spike. "As you were my previous Master, I personally have no ill will against you."

"We've barely spoken to each other," Shirou said quietly. "You tried to kill Rin!"

"You treated me like I was an evil creature defined by her poison more than any other virtue," she pointed out. "You treated a Queen as a footstool only to be used to scout the enemy."

"Your powers can only kill! You said yourself that you were capable of great power and evil on that first night!"

"And you immediately used a command seal to prevent me from using any form of poison out of naivety and the aspirations of a child." She gave a warm smile. "You yourself are capable of the very same evil."

"We are very different people!" Shirou almost roared. "You're an Assassin!"

"Does that make me irrefutably incapable of feeling joy? Sadness? Anger? Pain?" The Servant asked. "Did you assume I was simply evil?" Her eyes narrowed. "Or did you assume I was the product of your darkest nightmares made real?"

Shirou sucked in a breath. "I would never blame you," he whispered. "I just didn't want anyone hurt."

"Congratulations, Shirou. You hurt someone tonight." She waved her hands, opening the palms. "But that is what happens when you are presented with an impossible decision. You chose the life of your closest pseudo-family member over that of a Servant. You were going to hurt the heart of a woman irrevocably one way or another."

"I didn't want anyone to get hurt! I didn't want you to fight at all!"

"Mmm." Her eyes closed, in thought. "There it is. Your gender betrays you. You think that I am incapable of fighting for you." She focused, her hand extended as she created a slim ottoman chair from nothing but prana. "Let me tell you why your beliefs poisoned our partnership."

She sat upon the ottoman, her shoes just visible under the hem of her skirts. The spikes that came off her heels were just as dangerous as the rest of her.

"All Assassins feel just as you do." She placed a hand upon her heart. "We all were placed in situations where we made choices. Assassins are known for legends of killing and death. Just as any Saber or Caster. We are no different." The hand that wasn't on her chest reached towards the moon. "My legend started on a night much like this one. My wedding night."

"To the emperor?"

"I was married to one of his generals first. But I couldn't stomach the waiting. Knowing he was out there and I was unable to help him." She sighed, closing her eyes in memory. "So I convinced the bodyguards he left me to break the siege entrapping him. We rode in the middle of the night, destroying the sentries and slipping into the fortress." She looked almost at peace. It was hard for Shirou to trust that. "Once I brought him fresh supplies and intelligence on the enemy, they broke under our combined might."

"That doesn't sound like an Assassin."

"No." She smiled. "I fought for love. I fought for a future I thought was bright. A man who suited me, a strong husband. But that night, the Emperor saw me, and within a fortnight my husband committed suicide by his order. Poison burned in my veins even as I became his empress."

"So, you didn't want to become your legend?"

"No one dreams of their own mythology," his former Servant whispered. "I did not kill thousands, I killed few. Far less than most. But the legend was long in the making: a decade in the decision, and years of harvesting the right plants and studying to know what I would do."

She turned to face Shirou, her gaze locking onto his own. "That is the core of what it means to be Semiramis, Queen of Assyria, the unwanted daughter of a goddess. The pain of having my first love stolen from me was enough to burn into me a hatred that overcame an Empire. You could have summoned a God. Or a Berserker like Heracles, the beast you met just a few nights ago. Great warriors throughout history could have been yours. But you, Shirou Emiya, had to summon something more personal."

"I summoned a Queen." Shirou tried to think of a better way of calming down Assassin.

"You ignored your Servant and now that you've lost me, we finally have a frank conversation," she pointed out. "You believed our ideologies were too different to even consider letting me fight at all. But you also let me roam. Did you know that I would follow you, and sit in your lessons with you?"

She laughed, a dangerous sound. "Your education is something to be proud of. Part of my willingness to serve Caster is so that you might survive. I want you to move on with your life and make something of it. You are a very simple mage, Shirou Emiya. But your mind is full of hope that someone out there will be happy to be saved by you. It reminds me of my first husband."

Only then did he notice that his limbs were growing cold and numb. "What have you done? Assassin? What did you do?"

"I can turn the very air around me into poison. We've been talking long enough that you've breathed it in. You'll be sick for a week or so, but you'll survive. Consider this my last act as your Servant, Shirou. I want you to survive and give someone hope. You weren't the right Hero for this war. Perhaps you'll be around for the next one and summon me again, hm?"

She gave him an open smile as he lost feeling in his fingers and toes. "Between Caster and I, this war will be concluded by tomorrow night. I thought that you would not appreciate it if I just poisoned you and left." She stood up, removing the summoned piece of furniture.

"Goodbye, Shirou Emiya. I had dearly hoped we would be friends, but it is not to be." She bowed, giving him a smile. "This is for the best, you must understand."

"Goodbye," Shirou struggled to say. "Semiramis." The word felt alien on his tongue, but somehow in that moment he could understand her. The frustration she must have felt, and the pain of not being able to do anything. _That_ he could feel perfectly. But she did want to help him, even though it was her own idea of help. As his eyelids fluttered, he could see the back of his former Servant as she left the house. He realized finally that she wanted him to be the hero that he wished he could be.

Well, there was no way he could refuse such a challenge. His body must have sensed that too, because he woke up with the sun on his face and his body no longer afflicted by poison.

"She lied to me." He grinned, clenching his fist. "So that's what you want..." He had until that night to do that. "You want a hero, huh? Fine, I'll show you."

He reached his hand out to the sky.

"You're going to be the first person I save."

* * *

This chapter was written by my friend **Aberron**. Here's what he has to say to you guys.

"Hey guys, Aberron here. So glad to share this piece with you. I love helping these ancient heroes come back to life on paper, even if it is just for a few moments. It feels like history sings again as I write all these details. Semiramis isn't one of those cuddly people, but she has her favorites and her own way of looking at the world. Her and Shirou certainly wouldn't get along at first, but it felt so right to put this on paper.

Pallan and I are always happy to share more moments like these with you, and during this quarantine it brings us great joy to share this with you. Just like Shirou wakes up with hope on his mind, I too have that same mentality for the future. Until next time, my friends.

Pístis, elpís, agápē."

Elegant as always, my brother. Thanks to the rest of the Loresingers for their work on the chapter. Every day I count myself blessed to be able to work with these people.

Your ending theme, picked by Aberron, is _Savior_ by **Rise Against**. Blast from the past, eh?

Thanks for reading.


	41. Chiron

**[Never tell people how to do things. Tell them what to do and they will surprise you with their ingenuity.]**

Kiritsugu Emiya was enjoying his afternoon tea when his son arrived home from school. He was responsible, always minding his elders and taking good care of them in turn. So when the boy ran up to him, it was not normal. He didn't even announce his return properly. "Dad! Dad!" He was holding up a scar or burn mark on the back of his hand where Kiritsugu could see. "I must have fallen and skinned it," he explained.

The back of the hand was bright red, and the skin was fairly warm compared to the skin near it. Kiritsugu handled it, and while he did so every single magic circuit left that could fire screamed that what he was holding was a mark of something greater. Something that should have remained buried for a very long time afterwards. He felt his throat constrict in horror.

"Shirou…" He grasped his arm with what little strength he had left. "No! It's too soon!"

"What is it? I'm sorry, I didn't mean to!" Of course his son would immediately believe he was the one at fault.

Kiritsugu Emiya closed his eyes, unable to speak. Shirou must have noticed because he pulled back, afraid. His jaw clenched harder than it had since he lost his mentor. He could feel heat rising from deep within his chest and pushing into a burning roar, pulsating adrenaline through his limbs. Reflexively, he reached for his pistol, the memories of years gone by coming back with a vengeance.

_Not again. Not so soon. I won! I beat the Grail! The leylines had to have been damaged, if not destroyed... so why...?_

He looked down at his hands, the muscles shaking from the rush of feeling and raw power they still expected to wield. "I must teach you magic." The words escaped his mouth before he could fully stop himself.

"Really? You're going to teach me?" Shirou was back within his personal space instantly. His eyes were lit with interest, not understanding the cruel agony that being a mage was. "You said—"

"I know what I said!" he barked, and his son recoiled. "I have no choice. This is my fault." He pointed at the mark upon Shirou's hand. "That marks you a master in the Holy Grail War. But it's too soon. It was supposed to wait sixty years." He clenched his fist. "It's only been five."

He was starting to get lost in thought, immediately going through what little resources he had left from that time period. He had never thought this was going to happen. He didn't have anything to help Shirou. No catalysts, no mystic codes, no powers beyond the cruel power that fate gave him at birth. Perhaps his ashes and bones could be ground down and built into... something that the kid could use. It must have been minutes of thinking, because Shirou interrupted him.

"Dad?" Shirou asked quietly. "Is it something I did? What did I do wrong?" The boy looked worried.

Kiritsugu knelt down so that he was at eye level with Shirou, who had at some point sat down himself. "No, no, _I_ did this. And it will be me who fixes it." His father pointed to the shed in the back of the yard. "Tonight. I don't have much time left, and I must show you how to do the ritual. I can't protect you anymore. My magic was at its limit last year, and now I have only the embers. I will show you all that I can." As his father, he would do anything for Shirou. Including acquiring the tools necessary. They would take time to get. That wasn't something he had to spare.

**[A good plan, violently executed now is a better than a perfect plan next week]**

Learning magic did not come naturally to Shirou, but he persevered. On top of his normal studies, he focused hard on his own duties, as his father couldn't be the one to start the ritual. When the time finally came, Kiritsugu was exhausted. They had carved a gigantic circle into the shed's floor, and some kind of item was pressed into the center. It looked like an ancient brass rod, and Shirou gave it a questioning look.

"Summoning with this ritual requires that you use something that is important to who you are trying to summon," his father whispered, wheezing. "I was part of the last war." He said, closing his eyes. "I never wanted you to be a part of it."

"But I am."

"You are." Kiritsugu placed his head into his hands, taking a minute to think. "I could have helped you summon a powerful Servant. One that I summoned. But I thought this would be," He coughed gently, needing to breathe once more. "Perfect for you."

Shirou nodded. An alarm started beeping off to the side. "Thank you." He whispered. From there, he knew it was time. There was a rush of feeling and power. The words tumbled from his mouth perfectly, with hours of practice. It felt like every nerve in his body was firing, and painfully. He couldn't help but cry out as it tore the power from him.

It wasn't the most painful thing he had ever experienced—that was the fire—because he could push past this pain. With a flash of light and a wave of energy, Shirou was knocked off his feet. Before he hit the ground, someone had grabbed him. It was a man, but taller than his father. He had a kind smile on his face, and some kind of armor on. Shirou was set back onto his feet gently.

"Are you the one I will call Master?" The large man asked, his voice kindly.

"Yes." Shirou said, with as much confidence as he could muster. "My name is Shirou Emiya."

"I am Servant Archer. I am pleased to have been summoned here, though I am curious what you used to summon me here."

"We used," Kiritsugu coughed from his position inside of a knocked over crate. The magic had obviously knocked him over too. "We used the scroll case you left for Heracles."

"Oh?" The man smiled, taking a few steps around the shed. "I left him a note to apologize for the terrible guilt my death would cause."

Kiritsugu leaned forward. "What did you decide would convey that?" His voice sounded strained.

"I raised him as any father would raise their only son." The man smiled, gently sitting on another crate. "I had all the hope that even after I was gone that he would continue to be the hero I raised him to be. Ethical, moral, and without despair at the loss of his mentor." Every word carried with it some deeper meaning that Shirou couldn't yet grasp. "From what the Grail has shown me, it seems he _did_ succeed in becoming the hero he was supposed to be."

"The Grail War has started five years after the last. It may be some years before it truly begins, but it has chosen—" Kiritsugu paused, inhaling sharply. "It has chosen Shirou to participate."

The summoned Servant nodded. "He is but a boy."

"You understand."

Archer nodded. "I do." He gave Shirou a smile, offering his hand. "Let me reintroduce myself, Shirou Emiya." He bowed. "My name is Chiron, and I promise to be your Servant and protector."

**[A pint of sweat saves a gallon of blood.]**

Later that night, Shirou was asleep, and Kiritsugu sat alone in the courtyard. His hands were shaking and feeling numb, and before him rested a paper. Only three words lied upon the paper. It had been started and stopped so many times that this time felt no different than the last. But he had to do it. This had to be right. Both of his children deserved to know he cared.

"Sir Emiya." Chiron politely spoke up from the side. "May I join you?"

"Archer. Of course," he said weakly. This curse was ravaging him. For all he knew, this curse had just chosen Shirou for a Grail war because of what he had done. At his heart, he knew that he had brought this upon them both.

"You seem unwell." The Servant noted. "What have you been doing to treat it?"

"Tea, reduced activity, and time with my son." He met eyes with the Servant. "The grail is a poisoned chalice. It cursed me for trying to destroy it."

"As a creature summoned by the grail, it would never summon something to undo it's intentions." The Servant noted, taking a deep breath. "An offer to heal you would simply be salt in the wound."

"I have come to terms with it. Shirou will be alright without me."

The Servant gave him an odd glance. "Does he know that?"

It took far too long for Kiritsugu to decide that he did not. "I thought you might be my way of doing that." He had to pause to breathe. "My way of being sure."

"You are giving what is left of your life for his own." The Servant noted. "I felt more than just his magic in that ritual."

"You taught heroes." Kiritsugu admitted. "I have tried to teach him, but I can't be there for him forever." He coughed, wiping his face with a cloth. "I thought you would be the right person to help when.."

"You think like a Magus." The Servant intoned. "But care like a father."

Neither of them said anything for a while, the chill night air washing over them both. "Am I wrong to think so?" He rasped.

"Fatherhood is not about placing your hopes in your children. It is about taking an empty vessel and finding out what is meant to fill it. Your son may yet be someone heroic. He might be less than perfect to follow after your ideals." The man gave him a level look. "Many fathers brought would-be heroes to me in my lifetime. I was summoned by your son, but I do not promise to make him into something _you_ decide. He must decide for himself what kind of future he will have."

"He is not my only child." Kiritsugu whispered. "She was kept by her mother's family."

"But you have spent your time here with him. Not seeking after what was lost."

"Only because I cannot get past the bounded fields to take her." He admitted openly. "I have tried in the past."

"What do you believe Shirou will do when he fights in the war?" Chiron asked, changing the subject.

"He doesn't have the heart to kill anyone."

"Are you saying he cannot or will not?"

"He has gotten in trouble at school for beating children older than him accused of bullying. He is not afraid to fight. Nor involve himself in the business of others."

The Servant smiled, seeing his attempt to swerve the conversation back to his goal. He had made Shirou summon Chiron with only one goal in mind. When Kiritsugu was dead, this Servant could take over the position of father figure and magical mentor, and keep his son on the path of being a Hero. In Kiritsugu's mind there was no other direct path to Shirou surviving a Holy Grail War.

"I refuse," the Servant said coldly. "I see your plan. A dying man full of regrets pushes his beliefs on a pupil. I will fight in the Grail war. I will help your son survive. I refuse to show him my teachings when your hands are so clearly in every action here."

"I cannot force you." Not even at his best could he have fought a Servant and had a chance. "But I believe that your answer may yet change."

The Servant stood up, returning a minute later with a new pot of tea. "These herbs calm the throat and may help you," he offered. "Your son was listening at the wall during our conversation."

Kiritsugu clutched his arm, feeling panic rise. "He heard about—"

"He heard enough." The Servant informed him. "But it doesn't change anything. You are still his father, and I do not deserve to replace you. He knows that you care." The slapping of feet in the background was an indication that Shirou was running back to his room.

He wanted to run to him. To tell him that everything was going to be alright. That everything Kiritsugu had done in the past year was for his sake. He had to tell Shirou that every day he kept living was only because he had him in his life, and that alone could keep him going to spite the Grail and its curse. "Archer." He gasped. "What did you actually say in that letter to Heracles?"

"Is this for the son who is questioning your intentions or the daughter you feel guilty for leaving behind?"

_Damn him_. Kiritsugu didn't want to answer, for they both knew the _right_ answer. But damn him for making him say it.

"I can't forget her. I have to tell her what I feel."

Kiritsugu's fingers faltered, shaking too much to even write a single sentence. Chiron reached over and placed his hands atop them, holding them still. "What is her name?"

Kiritsugu pushed the hands away. "I will do it!" He hissed. "I owe it to them both." And so that night, he finally put pen to paper beyond the first three words. "But I ask for your wisdom."

The pen shakily moved past those first three words. _My dearest Illyasviel._ Under the guidance of the ancient tutor, the letter that had laid dormant for four years came to life.

"Heracles was a sensitive soul. I began by saying two words: _I am retired_." The Servant smiled.

"Isn't that five?" Kiritsugu could see a way of saying it in fewer words in Japanese.

"Two in Greek." He waved his hand. "But it was meant to convey that my time and service to him and others was complete. Achilles was almost a grown man. I wanted to reassure them that though I was moving onto the next life, I was content. I had done well. I had lived my life without regrets and had raised some of the finest men and women the age had to offer, amongst many others who have been lost to history." Chiron seemed to muse quietly, sipping his own tea. "It's important to reassure them. They will be hurting."

"Hurting in what way?"

"No matter who they are, they will feel a connection to you. That's just the way the world works. Separated from you they will grow to anger, and they will want to blame you. You can accept that blame." He swirled the tea, the leaves floating to the top. "But instead of saying sorry, just tell them all of the times you think about them. The way the house no longer echoes with their noises. The way you would watch them sleep and worry about their future. How _you_ could not sleep for worry of them succeeding. How you cry for them when no one else is looking." Chiron didn't have his eyes open. This was as real for him as it was for Kiritsugu.

Slowly and frustratingly, the pen started moving. The tea had warmed his limbs and given him a small burst of life. Enough for this, at least. It burned as he pushed past his limits, like a fire had been building within him. "What else?"

"Tell them about the first day you met. How you never put expectations upon them. That you wanted them to become their very best self. That their life was always their own in your eyes." Chiron looked up at the night sky. "Being a father was never about creating a better version of yourself. It is truly about letting the children grow into their fate. To find their own excellence. We called that _arete_. The search for your very best self. And for your mentors and family to help you achieve it. Together as a community we could take care of anything. And those few who could overcome the community and become something greater? Those were the true heroes."

Kiritsugu didn't know how long he wrote, but the sky was brightening before he finished. His hand ached, but that was acceptable. Pages and pages of feelings and connections from father to daughter had been documented. "How," He coughed into a napkin, oddly energized despite not sleeping. "How did you end your letter?"

Chiron hadn't left his side. "That the poison of death could never taint my relationship with my pupils. My last words to him and Achilles were oddly ones thrown in his face by Zeus. You too, my child." The Servant murmured it in Greek. "_Kai su, teknon_."

The Centaur had died from poison. How apt. "Then I know how I will end it." His hands shook, but they were able to carve out these last words.

_Take care of your brother. He doesn't know you like I do, but he has a good heart. I know you do as well. _

_I love you Illya. I was too weak to save you. I only ask, no, I beg that you let go of any kind of vengeance. It dominated my life, and it would make me cry to think that it would befoul your own. Find joy and happiness, my daughter. _

The light of dawn washed over the courtyard as his shaking hand finished the letter. "I've changed my mind," the Centaur stated, offering a wax seal and an envelope.

"About?"

"I will train young Shirou. If he's anything like you, he will most certainly make plenty of mistakes. It would increase his chances if I trained him." The Servant set his tea down, taking a deep breath of the morning breeze. "And it may bring me joy to prevent him from becoming a spirit of revenge upon your family."

"I will never thank you enough," Kiritsugu said bitterly.

"I could never replace you."

"I wasn't asking you to." The lie slid off of his lips without concern. Both men knew what was going to happen.

Kiritsugu lasted only a few weeks more, before he died. Each and every moment was spent with his son, and they were some of the happiest moments of his life.

* * *

Another gift from my friend **Aberron**. Here's what he has to say:

"All of the quotes in the headings came from General Patton, whom my grandfather served with. He was present when Patton gave many of these quotes in his speeches. He was one of the operating surgeons in the Africa campaign of Patton's 3rd army. He said that part of his life was 'not a single ounce of calmness. The entire army moved farther and faster than any other had before it. We dug fox holes and put people back together time and time again, and at the time we didn't realize we were winning. All of Europe had fallen and D-day was years away. We were a long way from winning and no one thought we should go this hard and fast. Except him. So we went with him. Called him Old Blood and Guts. My operating tent was evidence of that.' I loved seeing this side of Patton and my grandfather, and I hope that during this time of suffering and pain that we can look to those who have been through this kind of event or pain in the past and find that hope for the future that drove them to make our day happen.

Glad to share this with you guys, and I wish you the very best."

Thanks to the Loresingers for their help and hard work. I appreciate what they do, and I know Abe does too.

Your ending theme, picked by Abe, is _Father of Mine_ by **Everclear**.

Thanks for reading.


	42. Florence Nightingale

"Thank you very much," Shirou said kindly, "and have a good day."

Shirou adjusted his bookbag to hang more comfortably on his shoulder as he walked out of the library, but found no position to be an easy carry. His stomach was tight with tension. The fear that his Servant wouldn't take well to his plan weighed heavily upon him, and doubt plagued his every step. One thought in particular kept coming back no matter how hard he pushed it away from his consciousness.

_Am I doing the right thing?_

_I don't know. But I have to try. She deserves a chance to see what else there is to her._

Shirou stuck his hand into his bag and ran his fingers through one of the books as he speedily walked back home. They had been dusty and barely touched when he took them from the shelf. He was almost thankful for that, as other books he had taken out in the past had been stained with fingerprints and foodstuffs. No use distracting her with unhygienic caretaking.

He stopped at a crosswalk that had just turned red in front of him. The instinct to tap his foot impatiently rose up, but as soon as he felt it, he stopped and took several deep breaths.

_Don't let excitement turn into anxiety. All you are doing is helping someone._

Someone poked him in the side, and he jumped.

"Onii-chan?" Only one person ever addressed him in that way. Shirou covered his side as he turned to Illya, frowning.

"Why did you do that?" he asked. Illya pouted.

"You weren't listening to me!" she replied, crossing her arms. "I was calling you over and over again, and you were just lost in your own head. The light's already turned green!"

So it had. Shirou quickly walked across before it could change its mind, turning to the left as he continued on the path home.

"Are you going home?" Illya asked as she caught up.

"Yes," he said simply.

"Can I come with you?"

"Not today, no."

"Aww. Why not?" she whined.

"There's an important conversation I've been meaning to have with... Berserker for a while now. I've finally put myself in a place where I can, and I'm not going to squander the opportunity to do so."

"Wow," Illya said with an almost shocked tone. "So you really did listen to me the other day, when I said that you don't know enough about her?"

"I... a little, I suppose. I wasn't thinking a lot about that—"

"Meanie!" She attempted to stab him in the side again with her fingers, but Shirou was able to dodge this time.

"—but further conversations she and I had led me down the same path."

"Mm." She was quiet for a little while. "What do you intend to do?"

"Help her."

"Not to save her?" she pressed, and he shook his head.

"She's the one who saved people. Not by fighting, but with her will to help and heal. I just want her to remember that."

"...you've changed," Illya stated quietly.

"I wanted to," he replied in the same tone. That put a small smile on his companion's face.

"Then I'll leave you to it. Stop for a second, please?"

Shirou did so, looking down at her. Illya stretched her petite body upwards until she could reach his head, lightly patting it a few times.

"Good boy," she said kindly. "You owe me dinner next time, okay?"

"Please, come over whenever you like," he said with his own warm smile. "Have a good evening."

"You as well, onii-chan." She waved goodbye as she crossed the street and walked away. Shirou took a few seconds to watch her go. Despite its rough start, the relationship he had kindled with the other Master had been a comforting one. It was nice to have someone else in the War that, if he couldn't entirely trust, he could rely on for good company. And Illya was slowly digging her way into his heart.

It was only a few minutes more for him to get home, and in the time the sun slowly dipped closer and closer to the horizon. The chill that it pushed away was beginning to creep back in, but Shirou easily made it home before it seeped into his skin and caused his Servant to nearly strip him to check for frostbite _again._

_Nope. Not gonna remember that. That's going in the thought-safe, and I'm throwing away the key._

"I'm home," he called out as he opened the entrance, taking off his shoes.

"Welcome home," Nightingale said from down the hall. "I'm in the living room."

"Be there in a sec," he replied, switching to his house shoes. He checked that he had everything in the bag, again, and he picked a cassette tape player off of a dresser on his way to the living room.

She was hunched over the kotatsu, scribbling into a journal as she looked over a map of Fuyuki. Certain points were marked: the church, the school, _The Copenhagen_, the hospital, and more than a few places that he didn't immediately recognize. As he closed the door behind him, she looked up, red eyes shining in the light.

"Your trip was successful, I see," she said, noticing the weight of his bag.

"Very much so," he replied, taking a seat across from her and folding his legs underneath the kotatsu. The warmth helped him relax, and he took off his bag and placed the cassette player on the table. Nightingale quirked an eyebrow.

"What's this for?" she asked.

"Remember what we talked about the other day?" Shirou decided to get to the point directly. That's what his Servant recognized best. "How your perspective on the world is… skewed?"

"I remember that I do not agree," she said matter-of-factly. "You yourself are so afflicted. We have talked at length about your survivor's guilt and your lack of self-worth."

Shirou flinched.

"Yes, that's true," he nodded after a moment. "I'm not very healthy myself, I know. But I think that is exactly _why_ I can say for certain that neither you nor I see the world as it should be."

"I will not entirely concede your point, but I sense that you are going somewhere with this," she said. "Continue with what you were going to say."

Shirou nodded, removing a book from his bag. It was a thick hardcover, with a long title: _Florence Nightingale: An Introduction to Her Life and Family_. As he set it on the table, he met her steely gaze.

"As I understand it," he said, "you're less a _person_ and more a fragment of one. That is, from what Tohsaka and the priest explained to me, what a Servant is. They copy a piece of a Heroic Spirit's soul and then funnel that into this... familiar-like container."

"I had already known that when you summoned me," she replied.

"So you believe that you are not really Florence Nightingale, but just a piece of her? And that works?"

She narrowed her eyes.

"Retaining functionality even after a limb is lost is very plausible," she pointed out. "Why should that not be true for the mind and soul?"

"So you feel like you contain all that was important about Florence Nightingale, even… hampered as you are?" he pressed, thinking of what he'd read.

Her gaze intensified. He could feel daggers tracing the lines of his muscle fiber.

"There is a limit to how far you can take this sophistry, _Master._" She uttered the title with the slightest hint of derision, laying her hand flat on the kotatsu. "You were not there when the snow set in and I had to sift through a pail of frostbitten severed limbs to decipher which ones belonged to which particular soldier, each the son of a mother and father that wished desperately for their child to return home safely. You were not there on the Turkish summer days when the stench of sick haunted me everywhere I went, taunting me with every failure despite all of the people I saved."

He flinched as she tapped the table with one finger, driving her points into the wood. "You think to lecture me on my own life, as if you know my own memories better than I do? What gives you that right?"

A tense silence hung in the air as Shirou reflected on her words. He had clearly gotten off on the wrong foot here. His tone was too accusatory. He needed to change positions.

"I apologize if I came across that way," he started. "I am... more than anything, worried about you."

"Your expression of that concern leaves much to be desired," she said dryly.

"I don't mean to doubt the authenticity of your experiences. But..." He hesitated, trying to figure out how best to communicate the idea. "I had a dream last night. I, um... it was a dream about your life. You... had a sister, didn't you? Her name was P... Parthenope, I think it was pronounced. But you called her Pop."

She was expressionless, with only the faintest spark of life in her eyes urging him to continue speaking. He opened the book to a page he had marked beforehand and pushed it towards her.

"So I went and did some reading," he continued. "This book, which holds all of your letters and correspondence related to your family, has a hundred and thirty pages dedicated to your letters with her, more than any other single person."

Nightingale took the book towards her, rotating it so that she could read it.

"_The wide-winged sea birds overhead chuckle in their flight,"_ she read aloud, "_and say, none but us, none but us can sit on the cliffs. Perhaps they are going up the channel as far as Dover and I will entrust one with a billet, under his wings, of love to thee, my dearest Pop..."_

She shook her head, looking at him once more.

"I do not recall writing this, no," she said. "It is... interesting. I can feel... a vague whisper in my head that sounds like this. But it's formless, abstract. I cannot grasp it in my hands." Her hands clenched once, not hard enough to bend the book but enough to tell that she was not unmoved.

Shirou nodded and let the silence hang, not wanting to push her into distress. He wasn't sure if she was _capable_ of it, but the situation was delicate, and if he'd learned nothing else in recent weeks, it's that the blunt hammer of intent only resulted in broken windows.

Nightingale flipped to another page.

"_My dearest Pop, how can I thank you for your letter, your birthday letter, and for the splendour, in perfect harmony, of screen which lights up my room like a flood of sunshine. I am so fond of birds. If only these could sing..."_

She frowned.

"Shirou," she said quietly, "I am... uncertain. What does birdsong sound like?"

"I think I'd just make a fool of myself if I tried to imitate it," he said with a small smile. "That feeling you get when you eat a warm breakfast made by someone you love. That's what it sounds like."

"Hm." She looked again at the book.

"I found... something else while I was there," he said slowly, getting up only so he could plug in the cassette player and slide in a cassette. "Do you want to hear what you sound like?"

Nightingale tilted her head.

"The idea holds a certain interest," she said. "Show me."

He nodded and placed the cassette inside the player. It was part of an audiobook relating to her, and he had already fast forwarded to the appropriate section. The recording was filled with static and was in English, a language he only barely understood from his classes, but it was clear that a voice was speaking. It was an old woman's voice, fragile in body but strong in will. She spoke slowly and clearly.

"_When I am no longer even a memory, just a name, I hope my voice may perpetuate the great work of my life. God bless my dear old comrades of Balaclava and bring them safe to shore. Florence Nightingale."_

He pressed stop. The silence was deafening.

She quietly inhaled, as if remembering to breathe. After a moment, she said, "I believe that there is a fundamental misunderstanding of those words. I would not constitute saving lives as a great work, nor would I consider it my greatest work. My greatest work was to make sure that so many died not in vain. To bring about an understanding of the needs of applying all of our power and knowledge towards pursuing..."

She trailed off, frowning, her demeanor shifting close to anger.

"To make sure that we give the glory to God that He deserves. Not in empty-headed praise, borne aloft on the wealth of those seeking justification for ignoring the plight of the suffering. Not in blind adoration, while forgetting that our savior Christ descended into this hell we call 'life' to save us, where we still miss the truth of his words to love one another even today. It is to glorify God to the world by making it better, with practical achievements. Healing the sick is doing this, showing God's goodness by doing His work in the world. But the greatest of all is to make those who have the power to change the fabric of existence change their outlook."

She sighed and smiled sadly. "There were many I could not help. I was neither good enough, nor fast enough. Or there simply were too many, and despite all of my nurses, we could not save the whole. A great work is making sure that such suffering without amelioration is a thing of the past, that we take up all of the things God has given us to understand—science, medicine, grasping hygiene and the operation of the human form—and using it truly better ourselves, to make the suffering of the helpless and infirm something we ever grow away from."

_The books did mention that she was a dedicated woman of God, but I hadn't realized it was so deep for her. Did I really know anything about her at all?_

She shook her head. "And yet, everything I have learnt since I arrived tells me that not only have things not improved as a whole, they have grown worse. Even greater millions, orders of magnitude greater than when I was alive, suffer under the yoke of poverty in lives no better than the lions and antelopes in the savanna. The poor have grown poorer and the rich more blinded by their wealth."

She pointed to downtown Fuyuki on the map. "Glass towers dozens of stories high are constructed, shining as if they were to be a beacon for what you have accomplished, and yet those who toil away at their construction may break their spines in the process and be discharged without compensation for failing to complete their task. And now..."

She stared at her own hand, clenching her fist.

"Now I find out that beneath the very ground I walked upon was a world I knew nothing of, a world that delights in pursuing knowledge for knowledge's sake at whatever price they can pay. A world that happily throws lives into a machine that produces little but pain as long as those deaths remain hidden. A world that can perform miracles beyond the power of any medicine, and chooses to hoard them away just to maintain their grip on their power."

Her iron glare dug into him, and Shirou almost took a step back.

"His Son died for our many sins, all of which he saw in the Garden of Gethsemane. He chose to sacrifice himself for our sake, and we have done nothing but deface and destroy his grave only to build a gambling den atop it. So I ask you, Shirou, am I the one whose perspective is _skewed?_ Or is it the world that has descended into madness?"

She shut the book before her and pushed it back to him.

"If it is true and I am not Florence Nightingale in her entirety but only a fraction of that person, then what I am is the tool of God, and I do what he sent me to accomplish."

For the first time since the War started, Shirou remembered the life goals he had written down on that sheet of paper in high school. How he had always desired to become a police officer or a lawyer.

"So I'm wrong, then?" he asked. "Are the people who allow the world to walk down this path the ones in control? Is anything I do meaningful? Should I save anyone at all?"

Nightingale gave him a small smile.

"You are not wrong, Shirou. People deserve to be saved. But saving someone is not just rescuing them from a burning building."

She leaned forward onto the kotatsu and motioned with one hand.

"Saving someone is preventing the building from lighting on fire."

* * *

Hello again. It's good to see you.

Florence Nightingale was one of the greatest minds and greatest people of the 19th and 20th centuries, and what DelightWorks did to her is disgusting and unspeakable. With this chapter, I aimed to resolve the conflict between the absurd "Nurse of Steel" and the true _Angel of Crimea._ I hope that you will find it successful.

I am not sure if I will have another chapter out in the next two weeks, so, if you'll permit me, I want to acknowledge the fact that _The Saga of Shirou's Summons_ is close to one year old. When I published the first chapter of this story on sheer impulse, I was not thinking about all of the things I do now when I write these chapters. I simply wanted to try something funny out and give Shirou the chance to summon a different Servant than Saber. It could have specifically been a story about _only_ Kiara Sessyoin, but I knew my mind and how many ideas it generated. So I gave myself the flexibility to try out other Servants if I wanted. The reception was far greater than I could have ever imagined in my wildest dreams, and the fact is that despite all its troubles, Saga has come to the place it has because of all of you.

I grew a lot because of this story. I met some of my best friends because of this story. I answered questions about myself that had been nudging me for years because of this story. I know myself better because of this story. But that is only because all of you have come along with me, helped this story grow and supported it. Whether you were someone who found it one year ago and decided to see where it goes, or a newcomer who saw the big numbers and wondered what the big deal was, thank you. Truly and utterly, from the bottom of my heart, thank you to each and every one of you.

As always, this story would be nothing without the help of my team, my Loresingers: **Aberron**, **TungstenCat**, **Exstarsis**, **Kat 2V**, **KentaKazami**, and **nd7878**. A close friend of mine, **LogicalPremise**, helped pick me up when I had lost focus on what this chapter was supposed to be and showed me the path again. I owe a great deal to all of these people, and I don't know if they will ever know how great that truly is.

Please take a look at the following stories, because they are very good and don't have nearly the reception they should: _The Only One_ by **MikazukiNika**, _Fate/save life_ by **Dewyn**, and _Bloom_ by **Exstarsis**.

I commissioned some artwork for Saga, a two page comic of the final moments of the Berserker of El-Dorado chapter. You can find it on my Discord, the invite code to which is on my profile.

The ending theme for this chapter is _The Promise_ by **Globus**.

Thanks for reading.


	43. Leonidas

**{Fear, Phobos, is the driving force of Humanity.}**

"That's the only thing I owe you, Shirou. Now you know what situation you are in, and the fact that I will remove you from the war if you so much as speak to me beyond this moment." Lancer watched the dark haired girl berate his master. "I'm coming for you last."

"Last?" Shirou said, not thinking clearly. Might have been the blood loss. "Why can't we be allies?"

"You don't get it, do you?" she was getting louder with every word. "This is a _war!_ At the end of this I'll be standing over the smoking corpses of my enemies! I've trained my entire life for this moment, and you'll die if you stand in my way! So get this: I'm saving your sorry ass for _last!_" She nearly screamed the last, before shutting the front door with finality.

Shirou was calm for a moment, then turned and gave him a shaky smile. "I'm sure she was kidding."

"Women do not jest when they slam doors," he told the younger man. "If we were back home, I would simply recommend you speak to the girl's father for the best chance of survival."

"How would that help? I'm fairly sure her father's dead, too."

"If a woman can scream at you, make you think differently, then she is beyond reproach and should be sought after." He reached up to remove his helmet. It was the first time he had done so yet. "Master. I only jest because I worry for you. Your position in this war is as dire as she stated."

"But you stopped that Assassin! You stabbed him, and he got away."

They were almost the same in hair color. Shirou's red hair was a good match to his own. But his facial features were far different. "You, my Master, are a very weak mage. It was all I could do to simply stop that Assassin. I dare not draw upon your magical supply further or I shall damage you. If I activated my noble phantasm, you would be under such a strain that you may lose your fingers and toes from the damage I would cause you." He reached out, offering his hand. "Nonetheless, I am your Servant. I do not believe in stopping a hot-headed young fool."

"Thanks, Lancer," Shirou said, a genuine smile touching his lips. "But, uh, what was that about—"

"Your wounds." The older man placed his hand upon the damaged wrists and scraped elbows. "They are not the wounds taken by a warrior or trained combatant. Yet you fought anyways. The bruises on your wrists suggest that you have good instincts. But not enough experience." He let go of the boy's wrist, definitely noticing the calluses that had built up around them. "Yet I see the signs of hard work in you."

"I was on the archery team." Shirou added, rubbing a massive purpling bruise on his left arm. "I was one of the best."

"Archery is the work of slaves and Pheonician pirates," Lancer said without vitriol. "I don't know what equates manhood or accomplishment in this modern era, but only the mightiest of archers could challenge any of my men. As you have proven, an archer approached up close loses their advantages. Ergo, weakness." He tapped Shirou on the forehead. "Fool."

"I didn't plan on being part of anything like this!" Shirou recovered, face heating. "I can fight better than most!"

"I suppose that I can be proud you are willing to fight. Most mages are not so physical." This boy was no Spartan, but he would do. "You are a hot-headed fool." He grinned, giving the boy plenty of teeth. "Much like I was."

"I don't mean to sound ungrateful, but would you mind not calling me a fool?"

"I do not withhold my opinion. It shall be stated no matter what kind of social niceties you expect. Though the Grail gave me information about this era and the gift of tongues, it did not impart an expectation for my tongue to be contained of its truth."

Shirou's eyebrow twitched once. "Did no one ever teach you to speak politely?"

"You summoned a King. There is no other language a king may speak in."

Lancer would not be moved despite the boy's obvious discomfort. He had to grow up very fast if he was to survive this war. Leonidas would not mince words for a man in his position. "May I get you some food? Something to drink?" asked the boy eventually.

"I require bread and water. Nothing more." It was the only kindness you should expect in a foreign land.

"I have green tea and sesame buns." Shirou offered, presenting two loaves quickly. Lancer started sweating. Both loaves looked more than simply bread. More importantly, neither looked like the bread he was used to. "Or were you looking for something that had fillings?"

Lancer could feel a bit more sweat running down his back. "Master," he quickly amended. "There are some things that I must explain about myself. Or rather, that in my upbringing we considered all luxuries a sign of weakness." He pointed to the bread. "Like those."

"Um." Shirou looked honestly confused. "These are some of the cheapest breads that you can buy. The most basic."

Lancer and Shirou looked at each other awkwardly for the space of several heartbeats. "Perhaps I will try that one." He pointed to the left one. It looked more plain, perhaps.

Shirou offered the small loaf of bread. "Does eating help you, if you survive off of my mana?" Rather than tolerate this awkwardness any longer, he needed some way to break it. His master was being too kind to him in this endeavor.

"It does." Lancer had to stomach the odd tastes that assailed his tongue. "Food cannot replace mana, but it reduces the pain you will feel." He offered the young man his spear. "You are a kind master. I shall hide my identity no further, so you may understand my strengths and weaknesses." He waited but a moment before continuing. "I am a true son of Laconia. Descended from Zeus through his son Heracles, and borne of the only true women in all of Greece, I am _Leonidas_. I am a King of ancient days brought here as a heroic spirit to fight and then die for the sake of my summoner. Or so the Grail demands I believe." He pointed at the spear in

"Thank you, Lancer. Leonidas." Shirou shared honestly. "I don't want to lose."

"No one does." The boy was too young to understand. But he would.

**{For what we fear, we plan to defeat.}**

"_Lancer, by the power of my command seal, come to me!_" He had been in contemplation in the training rooms of the Emiya home when the energy of the grail took hold of him. Shirou was using his first command seal to summon him. With a grin, he brought his helmet down and braced himself. He was pulled through time and space to arrive at some kind of dockyard, yet the technology was far better than any he had seen in Athens or Sparta of olde. Gigantic vessels moored here, larger than entire cities in their own right. Metal crates the size of homes decorated every available space, adorned with symbols and designs. Lastly, there was a weapon coming right at his face.

He was the fastest Servant in the grail war. He was the embodiment of speed. His shield blocked the blow, which still rattled his helmet. The enemy had scratched him, but it was not enough. In the shadow of his helm, Leonidas grinned. _This_ was where he was supposed to be. His spear came around, also scratching the foe as they rebounded off of his shield. Shirou was behind him, arm outstretched and covering a bloody shoulder. Further behind him was a woman with red hair, a look of terror on her face.

"Master! I arrive!" he bellowed, deciding that to be enough to explain his purpose.

"I need your help!" Shirou explained. "She's trying to kill us!"

"Trying," he reiterated, turning his gaze upon the Servant that dared taste his Master's blood. "Past tense. Tried." He leveled his spear, the golden tip catching the last of the sunset upon it and shining brighter all for it.

Sitting upon a horse made of silver, or some kind of liquid was a woman. She was not dressed in armor, but a dress of quality so fine his era would not be able to make. "Oh? He was a Master!" She clapped her hands together, excited. "Even better!" Her hat was half the length of her body, in a bright coloration. Nothing about her seemed overtly dangerous, and the only weapon she seemed to have were claw like hand guards. Nothing to clearly identify her.

"Rider," he barked. "You shall not sully his skin ever again."

"Oh, I don't know about that." Her tongue was as silver as her steed, her condescending smirk reminding him of Xerxes's messenger. "He's defending a witness in clear violation of the rules. Do you really want to stop me?"

"Heh." Leonidas felt a small pride light in his heart. His Master was truly a man of honor, worthy of his respect. "I do. Come, then! Show me what you can do!"

The woman rose into the air on her horse, because of course it could fly. Her taunt went unanswered, as he just held his spear and waited. Not long, as the enemy summoned orbs of magical energy and threw them with all the precision of a child. Intended or not, he decided to see how painful one was on his shield. It hardly injured him, his partially divine blood protecting him. But more importantly, it protected Shirou. His shield flashed out three times, blocking all of her abilities. Magical fire burned upon the face of his shield, and he flexed once to put them out.

"Weak." He spat. "I've been hit harder by my own children!" They were Spartans, of course. They hit hard.

"I don't need to hit you to win, Lancer. I am not dependent upon my brawn." She smiled, before _singing_. Leonidas has fought many in his life but never someone whose voice was their weapon. The words were of a foreign tongue, but every single one struck with the force of a hammer. This was frustrating, as she was just flying around out of reach and attacking with her voice.

"Master!" he barked. "Brace your hands!"

Shirou held out his hands to provide a jumpstart. Not that Leonidas needed it, but this was for him. One of Rider's attacks bounced off of him, and he let go of his shield. The handle fell right into his Master's perfectly positioned hands, and Leonidas ran up the side of the large metal crate they were next to. With a mighty leap, his spear struck with all the power he could muster. A flash of light came from the horse of all things, stopping the strike but not his momentum.

The smaller woman was taken off of her horse, directly into the stone of the docks. With one of his feet crushing her neck, he had her. "Weak," he barked once again. "My wife would have broken you over her kne—"

Perhaps stepping on her neck was not the wisest of ideas. Leonidas finally identified the Servant just as he made this crucial error. Marie Antoinette's noble phantasm shot out, starting from her neck and flashing out of her body. "_Guillotine Breaker!_" She rasped. Shards of crystal shot out of every surface, seeking to destroy all. He could call his shield to him, and ignore the attack entirely. But that would mean his Master would be destroyed. Unacceptable. _Unacceptable_.

"Master, I don't—"

"Lancer!" Shirou yelled above the din. "I command you, as your Master! Win and survive!" Oh ho? His master was not afraid of battle. Mana flowed through him, and the spirits of his men appeared, called forth to serve. Every single shard of crystal was intercepted before it could kill his charge. Before all of them dissipated, Rider's neck broke. She was gone moments later, giving him a look of fury that hinted at fear.

The mana ran out soon after, and his men flashed back into the aether. Leonidas first recovered his spear, and walked towards the still held shield surrounded by shattered crystals. "Master." He whispered. "You saved us."

"You're too kind, Lancer. You did all the saving." Shirou said, looking pale. Yet he still held the shield with pleasing stature. "Taiga. They were after Taiga."

"Shirou!" The brown-haired woman started to berate him. Something about magic and worrying about him. Either way, Lancer sighed in relief. They had survived their first battle, yet at the cost of two of his Master's command seals. Shirou had but one left, and there were still five Servants to go. Leonidas could feel his body grow stronger in response to the overwhelming forces against them.

"Perhaps we should take Shirou home, so that he may recover." Lancer offered, stopping the woman's tirade. "And you can ask your questions of him there. I can better protect the both of you there as well." The din and noise of this Taiga woman was enough that it might draw other Servants to them.

**{What we cannot defeat, we deny all victory!}**

The final battle was clearly not a good match for any side. On the left side of the field was Shirou's supposed friend Shinji Matou, a regular Ephialtes. He had made some kind of deal with the man in charge of the Holy Grail War to gain command seals. His Servant was the most powerful in the war, once Berserker had been put down. She was a raging thing, hiding her identity behind a heavy set of armor. Berserker broke it, and they watched the Saber class servant reveal herself. Mordred, the Knight of Treachery. Dangerous in the hands of such an appropriate master.

On the other side was Shirou's more capricious acquaintance, Rin Tohsaka. Her Servant was powerful in his own right, as well. The man was some kind of Archer, though his identity couldn't be proven one way or another. Even so, he could fight in close range just as well as far, and could create shields to block attacks. He and Shirou had come across the battleground, as giant arcs of red energy were flying everywhere. Lying on the ground between both Masters was a third one. She was no longer alive, but in her hands was the grail itself.

"I can see it, Master," he called. "I can see the grail."

"This is it," Shirou said, shaking. "This is the end."

"Master," he stated. The mana coming from Shirou was barely enough to do much of anything. Fight, yes. Fight and then die. "I do not see a way to victory. Not unless both Servants are crippled."

"What happens if we stop them from fighting?" Shirou asked.

"The jewel still exists. So long as it does without an owner, the battle will continue."

Shirou took a deep breath. "Lancer, I don't want either of them to die. I don't want any more people to die."

"That was never your choice."

"It should be!"

"No man should play god." Leonidas put his hand on Shirou's shoulder. "No man should have his choice in how they live stripped from him. The men who play as gods are such that create heroes in the wake of the suffering they cause. To such a man, I would say _molon labe_, and defend me and mine." The Spartan looked down at the ground. "As our chances increase, my power weakens. Only when desperate do I stand a fighting chance, Master."

"Can't they just stop fighting!" the boy hissed.

"History would prove you wrong. If left untouched, one of these mages will kill the other and then come for you. And we would be unable to win for certain." Leonidas calmed his fingers, setting them back in the dirt. "You are a hot-headed young fool. This is our moment. This chaos is your only chance to seize victory. I ask you, Master," He met eyes with the young man, his helmet long lost in the fury of previous battles. "Will you seize victory?"

"Not if it means people will die. Not if it means one of them will be able to kill the other!"

"Either your dreams must die or you must watch one of your friends be killed. Decide." Leonidas could see the battle heating up further, as massive arcs of energy and power came off of the two Servants. Noble Phantasms were coming from both. "Shirou!"

His young Master looked upon the battlefield with concern. But he raised his arm. "By the power of my last command seal, I demand one thing from you, Leonidas. Let no one win! I don't want anyone to die!"

Shirou feared death. Not his own, but the death of others. He would have made a grand Spartan. With a mighty leap, Leonidas jumped in between both Servants as they released their noble phantasms. He did not jump alone. Other spectral warriors leapt with him, forming an angled wall for the energy to travel. Their shields formed a wall, curving so that both phantasms were turned, their focus upon a new target. The Grail itself, the cup of destiny. It had manifested. And now, with his men, he funneled all of the energy into that space. "**Thermopylae!**" He bellowed, bringing his shield down just as the divine and fey powered energies struck him. "**Enomotia!**"

The names of the pair of noble phantasms barreling towards him were also clear. Clarent Blood Arthur and Caladbolg. Both would kill him in their own right. But it was exactly what he wanted. His fingers lost feeling immediately, his shield rattling as the red and white energy converged upon him. His men were forming an unbroken line of shields, each standing strong against what was coming.

"Lancer?!" Both Masters looked up, shocked.

"You stupid sideshow! Move!" The Saber yelled, pumping more power into her attack. "You won't survive!"

"I am sorry we won't be having that rematch, Saber." Lancer said, letting the combined energies come over his spear. "Forgive me, but we of Greece understand the nature of victory and defeat far more than any other! If the only victory can come through death, then let mine be the death that decides the war!" His spear extended, letting the combined power of all three noble phantasms pour into its tip. "I am sorry, Shirou. I cannot keep your promise. But I will fulfill your will!"

The spear made contact with the grail, and he could feel his tether upon reality weaken, the energies burning his body as the object shattered into a thousand pieces. Only his Battle Continuation let him hold on a few seconds further. "Don't you see, Aristodemus? This time, my spear didn't fall short.." He whispered, watching as the grail disintegrated, and his soul was forcibly dragged into the aether alongside his foes.

"Hmph. Impressive," was all that Archer said.

"Damn. I wanted to trade blows one more time, you meathead," Saber said her piece. But it was his Master that ran towards him, looking shocked. Shirou was tearing across the still hot ground, and it was too dangerous for him to approach the magical energies.

"Leonidas!" Shirou yelled. "You did it!"

"This. Is." He could feel his legs leaving, his hold upon reality gone. "Sparta!" He declared with finality, holding his spear aloft as his body disappeared. If Shirou could not win, then he would deny all victory. This... this was his own wish. That his spear would finally strike the tyrant. As he went, Leonidas had a smile on his face. No one died. No lives would be lost for the sake of a destroyed Grail. Most of all, his Master would not have his heart destroyed by a war he was never asked to join. This was a death he chose. A death he could be proud of.

* * *

Hello again. It's good to see you. This is another chapter written by Aberron, so I'll let him do the talking:

"If you don't know what Molon Labe means at this point, take a gander. It's a solid part of our history and one of those lines you'll see thrown around even now. I just recently finished the Babylonia anime and decided that I would honor the man; the myth; the total chad Leonidas. When I saw his red hair under the helmet I was hooked on the idea of Shirou summoning him.

I don't think any of us are going to forget the year 2020. But I for one want to create some happiness and joy out of my 2020. May all of you readers find the same joy or hope in your lives too. I wish everyone well, in these trying times. Expect more amazing work from the gang of editors and brilliant writers here at Saga! We love you guys and look forward to your feedback."

Your ending theme is _Spartan Warrior_ by **Ryo Kawasaki**.

Thanks for reading.


	44. Mordred Pendragon

Mordred grinned when she felt the energy of another Servant. A good pulse-pounding fight was exactly what she needed to clear her head and remember what all of this was supposed to be about. No worrying about strange magical crap that was even weirder than normal, no constant desire to punch that smug Archer in the face.

Just her, her sword, and an enemy worthy of making her sweat.

"That's your Servant?" The other Master laughed, actually slapping himself in the leg as he cackled. "Some blonde foreign girl!? And what is that she's wearing! Oh, don't tell me that you actually like easy women, Emiya!"

Sir Mordred, Knight of the Round Table, one and true heir to the King of Knights, sighed. Whoever this brat was he couldn't even insult her properly. She _was_ blonde, she _was _foreign, and the crack about her choice in clothing was as juvenile as it was unoriginal. Then again, maybe everything said in the heat of the moment at Camlann had simply given her a better appreciation for _true _insults.

Still, his tone alone would have gotten her worked up, if she'd been able to sense an ounce of danger from him. His Servant, some long-haired woman in clothing far more revealing than her own, wasn't much better. And from the way she was crouched, blindfold focused right on her, the other Servant knew that she and her boy of a Master were screwed if they didn't run for it.

"Weaklings," Mordred lamented bitterly, "What are you? Assassin? You gotta be, I can't think of any other Servant who'd feel as pathetic as you."

The comment worked to shut up the blue haired boy, his lips pulled back in a snarl as he clutched a book in a shaking hand. "She sounds as barbaric as she looks. Here I thought you'd at least have control of your Servant, Emiya."

"Shinji." Her own Master's voice was flat, his hands clenched into fists. "You're the one who's been murdering people at night. You've been making her suck out their souls! How could you!?"

Shinji's expression went from angry to puzzled in a matter of seconds. "Whatever do you mean, Emiya? Isn't it obvious? My Servant requires more power, and those useless mouths were an easy source."

"Useless!?"

The other boy waved a dismissive hand. "What else would you call them? Dying to let me achieve victory in this war is the most noteworthy event of their lives. If anything, they should be grateful that Rider and I gave their existence meaning."

_Rider?_ This… pathetic thing was Rider? She wasn't even sure Berserker would notice if Rider tried to attack him!

"Shinji…" Shirou growled the name. "You've crossed a line!"

"Don't tell me you're that soft…. wait, seriously?" Shinji blinked as Mordred heaved Clarent up onto her shoulder and began to walk forwards. "You think you can fight Rider? You must be as deluded as you look!"

"It's not going to be a fight," she replied, boredom consuming her usual flair. God but where was Lancer when she needed him… at least that cocky Irish bastard had been fun to tangle with. This was just a chore. "I'm just going to kill you both."

"No one's killing anyone!" her Master snapped at her, stepping around and rushing to where the commoner lay slumped against a wall, blocking her from advancing. "Damn it, Shinji, she's barely breathing! We've got to get her to a hospital."

"_Damn it Master, at least stay behind me!"_

"Seriously, Emiya?" Eyes rolled. "That's your concern right now? Rider could kill you both in an instant and you focus on some meaningless streetwalker?"

"_Saber, we have to save this woman! Can you carry her?" _At least he had the good sense to think the words instead of shouting at her.

"_I can't do that and fight at the same time," _Mordred groused as she took a few long steps to get between him and their enemies once more. She was all for saving commoners, sparing them the hardships of war, but that didn't mean you stupidly risked your own life in the process damn it. "_I'll deal with the other Servant, go get her into the open and find someone to help."_

"Right!" There was a grunt of effort. "I'll be back to help as soon as I can!"

She'd finish this way before he got the chance. Hell, even if Rider was stronger than she looked she'd given it her best shot. The last thing she needed was her Master trying to 'help' like he had against Berserker.

"…you are serious." The other Master looked gobsmacked by the realization. "You're not even taking this seriously! This is the Holy Grail War! No true mage would turn his back on an enemy just to help some pathetic wretch!"

"You're talking too much, brat." Mordred rolled her shoulders to loosen them. "I'm sick of hearing your voice. Let's get this over with."

Teeth showed as he brought his book in front of him, like it was some kind of weapon. It opened of its own accord, pages flipping rapidly before settling. "I've always wanted to see a fight between Servants. Beating down pathetic trash like you, Emiya, wasn't how I wanted to start this war… but I suppose I'll make do. Take her down, Rider!"

Chains rustled for a bare instant before a black and purple blur shot forwards. She was fast, surprisingly so for how little energy she seemed to have. Steel rang as Clarent came down with a twist of her arm, parrying aside the spike aimed at her throat. The blow barely made her muscles flex, and even a powerful enough human could have probably deflected it.

Rider twisted in place, lunging for her belly with the other weapon while preemptively ducking the riposte any normal swordsman would have sent at her throat.

Unfortunately for her, Mordred wasn't a typical swordsman.

"Weakling!" The snarl came as she lunged forward with her free hand, seizing the taller woman's face in her palm. She felt a gasp against the palm of her hand, then a muffled sound of pain as she tightened her grip.

Her hips twisted before Rider could even attempt to free herself, her arm extending as she slammed the back of her opponent's head into the building beside them. Stone cracked and Rider's entire body went rigid with pain.

"Rider! I order—!"

Clarent tore through black leather, then pale skin, and then through the brickwork behind. There was a single agonized twist of the Servant's body, a bit of movement against her hand as Rider tried to say something… then she went limp, blood flowing freely around the sword buried in her chest.

Mordred exhaled and pulled her weapon free, the woman's body falling to land on the dirty ground. There might have been a twitch or two, then motes of light appeared as her spirit began to flow to the Grail. She watched for a moment or three, then heaved Clarent back onto a shoulder, turned, and began walking forwards once more.

The other Master was apparently in shock, his book had tumbled from his fingers and lay at his feet. Even its bursting into blue flame didn't seem to grab his attention, his wide eyes were locked onto the blood splatter that served as the marker for his fallen Servant. Only when she was directly in front of him did he finally twitch, jerking his gaze to meet hers.

"How many?" she asked, her voice flat.

"Wh-what? You c-can't do anything to me! I've lost my Servant, I'm out of the war!" He began to stumble back, then let out a very feminine shriek when her left hand snapped out to seize his shirt.

"How many?" she repeated her question. "How many people did you have her kill?"

"Wh-what does it—" he yelped when she hauled him off his feet, his hands grabbing onto her wrist as he whimpered. "I don't know! They were just streewalkers, girls out late! Maybe a dozen or so! None of them gave her much so I had to find more! I had to!"

She grunted and let him drop. The boy's legs gave way when he landed, his ass hitting the ground as he shook and gasped. "You tried to kill me and my Master, that's fair. This is war. You killed twelve innocent commoners. That's not, that's just murder, and you admit you did it. Any last words?"

"Last… no! You can't! Emiya! Stop this bitch! _Emiya!_"

Clarent fell in a smooth arc. The murderer tried to do something to stop it, thrusting an arm up as if it would help.

All it did was see a hand join his head on the ground.

"I, Sir Mordred Pendragon, pass the sentence on you," she muttered the words she really should have said beforehand. "For the crime of murder, you die by the sword. May God have mercy on your sinful soul."

Blood dripped from her weapon and she let it dematerialize as she turned around, putting her hands in her coat pockets as she began to walk back towards the street.

It didn't take her long to find her Master, the young man was already hurrying back in her direction. In the distance behind him she saw two men carefully carrying the unconscious woman into an ambulance. "Is she going to make it?"

"I don't know." Shirou shook his head, eyes on the ground. "I told them I found her unconscious on the sidewalk. I guess they believed me with all the strange things going on in the city, they didn't really ask any questions."

"Hn." A hand clapped him hard on the shoulder, "Relax, Master. Your doctors are a lot better than the healers of my era, she'll be fine. Cheer up would ya? You saved an innocent woman, we dealt with an enemy, this was a good night all things considered."

"I guess—wait." His head snapped up. "Dealt with an enemy? What do you mean _dealt with, _Saber?"

She blinked at him, "I mean I dealt with them. Wasn't a challenge at all. What, did you think I couldn't handle someone as weak as Rider after seeing me fight Berserker?"

Her Master ignored her, stepping around her and rushing back the way she'd just come from. For her part, she watched confusedly as he jerked to a stop at the entrance to the alley, his expression becoming horrified.

"Saber! You… you… how could you!?"

"How could I what? Deal with Rider? Easy, poor bitch had no mana at all." She idly wondered what the Grail had been thinking, choosing a Master with even less magical energy than her own. "And the other Master was an admitted murderer, so I passed judgment like a true King."

Which she was, no matter what her father thought.

"Justice was done, we've got one fewer enemy in this war, and we saved a commoner," she continued with a shrug, and a small grin. "Like I said, a good night."

"This wasn't justice!"

Mordred blinked, her smile fading. "What's gotten you so worked up, Master? He—_shit!"_

She had barely enough time to lunge forwards, grab her protesting Master, and dive for cover before gleaming white swords screamed through the space where their heads had been. A familiar bloodlust filled the air an instant later, setting her heart thundering in her chest as she scrambled back up to her feet.

"Aw, I missed." The tiny Master of Berserker gave a very childlike pout from her place in the center of the park, her monstrous Servant slowly shimmering into visibility beside her. "I wanted to strike his head from his shoulders in one blow."

Her armor's familiar weight returned as she called it into being, metal clanking and whirring as Clarent likewise reformed in her hands. "You really thought you'd get him with me still around? Don't insult me!"

The girl giggled, "I think I like you, Saber! So much more expressive than papa's! I'll make sure Berserker doesn't make you suffer half as much as big-brother."

"Wait!" Her Master finally got up onto a knee, "We don't need to—"

Berserker didn't care to let him finish, and she wasn't all that interested either. _This _was what she had been summoned here to do. This was the great champion she needed to defeat. Compared to him, the other Servants were child's play. If she brought him down, the Grail was as good as hers.

Metal met stone as their weapons collided, a shockwave rippling outwards from the impact. Her teeth ground together as her arms strained to hold her enemy back, fighting against the instinct to call on more of her Master's power to simply hurl the beast away.

_Damn it! I'm to him what Rider was to me!_

It was galling! Infuriating! She was the child of the greatest King of Britain and one of the strongest mages to have ever lived! No one should be this much stronger than her!

Even so… it was exhilarating! How long had it been since she'd truly had a challenge? Even her father had defeated her through trickery, not skill, summoning that damned lance by divine magic when Mordred had torn Excalibur from her grasp.

The laugh bubbled out before she could stop it, wild heat rushing through her entire body. She twisted at the hips, deflecting Berserker's strength rather than trying to keep blocking it directly. His club slammed into the ground, then drew back with impossible speed as he saw her own weapon streaking for his chest. Whatever protection he had stopped it from simply tearing his heart out, instead she merely gouged a deep line across his muscles, a thin spray of blood the only result from a blow that could have shattered a building.

Small as it was, the cut pissed him off, and it took every ounce of her cunning to deflect and avoid the flurry of blows he sent her way. She dodged one, deflected two, left a furrow on his left arm, but wasn't fast enough to avoid the kick he abruptly aimed at her chest.

She flew a good dozen meters through the air, struck the street in a flurry of sparks, then used the momentum to roll back up to her feet as if she'd meant to get punted across the park.

"Saber!" Her Master rushed forwards and utterly destroyed the strange sense of enjoyment she'd found.

"_Damn it,_ Master!" She _barely _got between him and the onrushing Berserker, once again forced to try and block him directly so her link to this world didn't get turned into a smear on the concrete. "I told you to stay out of these fights!?"

"I can't let you fight alone!"

Their enemy snarled and pushed down harder, her knees nearly buckling as she fought to hold him back. "You _can't _fight him dumb-ass! At least go after the Master—"

She had a split second's warning before Berserker abruptly pulled his weapon back, trying to overbalance her. Knowing that trick, she backpedaled and angled Clarent to parry a slashing effort to remove her head. Planting her back foot, she ducked the punch he threw with his free hand, then lunged with a minor burst of mana.

Berserker was quick, but he hadn't expected her to augment her speed; the tip of her sword cut into his right eye before he could flinch away. His roar of furious pain made her teeth vibrate and almost covered up the furious scream from the thing's Master. Combined, they gave her the moment she needed to grab her stubborn Master by the shoulder and not-so-gently throw him into a not-so-soft looking bush.

"_Stay there, damn it!"_

"How _dare _you! Forget my brother! Crush her now, Berserker!"

Feinting right, she then dashed left, doing her best to stay in his blind-spot. He'd heal fast enough but for now it was a tiny advantage she needed to milk for all it was worth. There _had _to be some kind of way to kill this stupid thing, and a way to keep him dead once he went down!

While she played keep-away with a giant, her Master finished thrashing his way free. "Damn it Saber, I can help—Rin, don't do it!"

"Wh—" There was a gasp, then a screech from the pale girl, "To me!"

Berserker's form vanished mid-swing, leaving her to stumble in shock and jerk her head around in time to see red and black light collide with his frame. A split second later a bolt of blue energy collided with his chest, driving him back half-a step, drawing a roar as the Servant planted his feet between his tiny Master and the new arrivals.

"I will murder you Emiya!" Archer's Master was practically foaming at the mouth in her anger, even as she kept one hand aimed directly at Berserker. "I knew you weren't taking this seriously, but you've reached a whole new level of stupidity!"

Behind her, Archer likewise had knocked another one of his strange arrows, his weapon likewise aimed and ready. "Saber, if I can distract the giant, can you deal with the Master?"

She snorted, "Easil—"

"No she can't!" her Master interjected. "We're not killing anyone! That's not why I joined this war!"

Mordred was fully ready to try and smack some sense into her Master, but once again Berserker's proved to be wiser. While her Servant had easily held her and Archer off at the Graveyard, they'd learned from that, and this time they'd both be going straight for her. As unstoppable as Berserker was, Mordred doubted the behemoth could be in two places at once, and it would only take one of them to take her down. Or capture her if her Master absolutely insisted on doing things the hard way.

"Berserker, take us home!"

A burst of red mana sent her shooting forwards as Archer released his arrow. The bolt took Berserker in the back, doing nothing to stop him from simultaneously sheltering his Master and scooping her under one arm. And as fast as she was, she'd been too far away, and the moment before she could try to take him in the leg he flexed and launched himself into the air.

"Damn it." She growled the word as he landed on a nearby building, visible for a bare second before leaping clear once more. "_Damn it!_ Master what were you thinking!?"

"What was I thinking?" He demanded as he furiously tore leaves out of his hair, "What were you thinking!? You'd have killed that girl!"

Archer's Master stormed past her before she could reply, grabbing him by his shirt and shaking him violently. "I _had _her! We had her! This war would have been as good as won if you hadn't opened your big mouth!"

"I—" the boy tried.

"Master—" Archer tried.

"Both of you _shut up!"_ the girl shrieked. "What do you think you're proving, Emiya!? This is a war, a fight to the death! What about that can you not get through your thick skull!? Do you think any of the other five Masters would spare you?"

"Four." Mordred corrected as she let her armor fall away. Furious as the girl was, they were still allies, and she seemed to have surprisingly strong notions of loyalty for a mage. "I dealt with Rider and her Master, they're dead in that alley over there."

That seemed to shock her out of her rage, if only for a moment. "Who were they?"

Her Master spoke before she could. "It was Shinji. He was Rider's Master. Saber… she…"

"Beheaded him," she supplied. "He was the one siccing his Servant on the women around town, so I treated him like the murderer he was. No idea on his Servant, she was pretty pathetic."

Shirou looked like he might be sick, staring at her like he was seeing her for the first time. In contrast, Archer's Master took a few long breaths before nodding slowly. "I knew Shinji was a slimy little snake. If you hadn't I'd have been obligated to."

_Mages… more concerned about hiding the evidence than the lives they killed._

Though this particular one seemed more like she was just reciting the words more than it seemed like she meant them. Mordred didn't doubt she'd have killed Rider's Master for what he did, but… she might have done it for the women he'd killed instead of doing it because he'd been sloppy in his murders.

Or she was just a good actress. Mages were frustrating like that, and best kept at arm's length.

"Tohsaka…"

"You still don't get to speak!" The girl whipped back around. "You… you… _ugh!_ Archer, we're going home before I lose my temper and kill our useless ally!"

Archer dutifully turned when his Master stormed past, giving them a sardonic grin before departing.

"We need to talk," her Master stated before the other two were more than a dozen steps away. "About what you did."

"We need to talk about what _you _did, Master."

He glared at her, making her cross her arms. "Fine. Home?"

She nodded once and the pair of them set off as well. Sadly for her state of mind, none of the other Servants tried to ambush them along the way. Which was a shame because the longer they walked in silence, the more she wanted to put her fist through something. She was not the kind of person suited for sullen silences or rational discussion. People had emotions for a reason, damn it! You tried to bottle them up and you ended up like her father: a caricature of a person, a miserable statue pretending to be alive.

From the way her Master kept working his jaw, glancing at her, then pointedly looking away, he was stewing in his anger just as badly as she was. It made the walk anything but comfortable, both of them huffing, glowering, and saying nothing as they forced themselves to not start berating one another before they made it back to the relative safety of his home.

It was when they reached the small parking space next to his home that her self control finally snapped, a hand grabbing his shoulder, spinning him to face her after his hundredth or so disgusted glare.

"What is your problem, _Master_?" she snapped. "Where do you get off on being angry with me, huh? Right after you warned our god-damned enemy? You know you might have just cost us this war?"

"Where do I…?" His own anger made his fists tighten, "You _murdered _my _friend_! How could you do that? I thought we agreed on why we were fighting this war!"

Mordred fought the urge to lash out. No matter how satisfying it would feel, it wouldn't be knightly to punch him. "The only thing we agreed on was that we needed to protect the commoners of this city, and that we needed to win this Grail War! If you thought that we could do that without killing anyone, then you're a naive little boy who's got no damned business telling a knight_, _a _King_, how to fight a war!"

"Did knights in your age wander around murdering people?" he spat at her, "You didn't even let me talk to him, I could have—"

"Done what?" she sneered. "Brought his victims back to life? Given him a divine epiphany or something? He was a murderer, scum! He's lucky I was merciful and used my sword, he should have been left to hang!"

That last was apparently too far for him because he let out a furious cry and threw a punch. She saw it coming before he even finished getting his fist up, and decided to make another point by bracing herself instead of dodging.

The blow caught her in the right cheek and was about as painful as someone flicking her with their forefinger.

"That's the best you've got, Master?" The Knight of Rebellion felt her upper lip pull back as he let out another sound somewhere between a sob and a scream before trying to punch her again.

She didn't let the second blow land.

Fingers wrapped around her Master's wrist as she caught it with one hand, her other planting itself in his chest as she yanked hard. There was a quiet gasp of pain as his arm reached its maximum extension. He didn't have time to struggle as she turned, heaving him up and over her shoulder in a vicious throw that saw him go through the front entrance to his compound. Wood splintered as he landed inside, groaning and instinctively curling into a half-ball.

Mordred stared at him for a few seconds, then strode forwards and lashed out with a single kick. He flinched before realizing it hadn't been aimed at him, something that might have been a protest escaping his mouth when the remains of the door were kicked aside.

"You punch me again, Master," the words were a low growl, "And I'm going to lose it. You've got ideals, I guess I respect that. That piece of filth was your friend. I _don't _respect that. You refuse to take this war seriously, and I am _not _going to take it."

"I—"

Her fist slammed into, and through, the wall to her left. "_Damn it,_ Master! This is my one chance, maybe my _only _chance to save my Kingdom!"

Shirou sucked in a breath, and she watched as he slowly got to his hands and knees. When he spoke, his eyes were distant, staring off into space. "I know that… but we're… I'm supposed to be a hero. A hero protects people, he doesn't kill them.."

She stared at him for several seconds before realizing that he was deadly serious. A vicious curse saw her elbow add another hole in the wall, "God damn it, you're worse than any priest I ever met. To answer your earlier question, Master, _yes. _Knights did go around killing people, that's how they became knights in the _first _place!"

His head snapped up, but she lowered herself and got in his face, speaking before he could try to interrupt. "All those stories you people love in this age? About chivalry and knightly honor? It's all crap. Sure we had rules, some of us even tried to live by them, but each and every one of us was a _warrior. _We made _war. _In my life, I butchered more than a hundred men by my own hand, and I was called a hero for it."

"That doesn't make it right!" he protested. "That doesn't make what you did to Shinji right!"

Mordred stared hard at him, fist clenching as she fought the urge to smash something else. God, but this guy's skull was thick. "It was _just_. It was the only thing to do."

"No it wasn't! That's not just—"

Her temper blew out for the third time in as many minutes, and her Master was once again airborne. This time he was thrown through the entrance to the house, hitting a firmer wall at the end of the hallway, though he managed to control his fall. He lurched into the kitchen as she stormed after him, whirling around the corner to see him bringing a glowing stick down at her head.

"That _was _justice!" She batted his attack aside with the back of an arm, barely aware of the red lighting arcing from her body, scarring the floor. "He murdered twelve people and he was made to pay the price!"

"You had no right!"

A second attack was caught, the reinforced poster crumbling as she tightened her grip. "I'm the King of Knights! I had every right to pass the sentence! He admitted it, there was nothing else to say! Anything less than death would have been an insult to the lives he ended!"

Shirou had let go of his broken weapon and raised his fists, but he froze at her last few words. "That's… that's not what justice is. It's more than that."

"That's _exactly _what justice is." She had no idea why he fixated on that damned word, but she didn't really care either. If there was one thing about her father's reign that she could point to as a positive, it was that the rule of law had been firm, fair, and just. "It's blind. It's harsh. It punishes people as examples to others, and it puts down rabid dogs before they can hurt anyone else. For the good of the Kingdom."

He'd apparently run out of words because he just shook his head, his battered body falling to a knee.

"That man was beyond saving." Mordred's gaze burned into Shirou until he looked away."You don't kill that many people and suddenly return to God's light. He was an animal in human skin, and I did what needed to be done before he could kill anyone else."

"But you didn't even try!" he protested. "You didn't even treat him like he was a person! He was just some… some _thing _that you had to get rid of! A hero of justice is supposed to be better than that! We're supposed to be all that is good in the world!"

A bitter pain made a mocking laugh escape her throat. "You think that's what heroes and justice are? Sorry to disappoint you, Master, but I think you need to find new words to describe what you want. Far as I know, you get two kinds of heroes. The kind who do whatever the fuck they want and love their lives, and the kinds who try to do the right thing and end up miserable bastards"

His refusal to look at her was getting annoying, so she reached down and grabbed his shoulder, shoving him back onto his ass and forcing him to pay attention. "You want to be a hero of justice? Then you're going to have to become a cold son of a bitch like my father. You want to save lives? You're going to have to kill the predators like your _friend _before their body count gets too high."

She stabbed a finger at his chest. "You think you're good and noble and holy because you want to spare an enemy? Because you're _better _than people like me and Archer because you won't kill anyone? Guess fucking what Master, you're _not. _You're just a coward clinging to his moral high ground, telling yourself you're doing the right thing even while other people are dying for your refusal to act."

Her brutal honesty made him flinch once again. "That's not… I'm not…"

She snorted and took a step back. "You're brave enough with your own life, I do respect that, but that doesn't mean you aren't a coward in other ways. The only good kind of war is a short one. You beat or kill who you have to to end it as fast as you can, before common innocents like those women get dragged in. Berserker sure as fuck isn't a precision fighter, how many commoners might end up dead if we have to fight him in the city? Those lives will be on _your _head."

"No… that's not… I never meant…"

_Fuck,_ he looked young in that moment. Like a peasant boy who'd just survived his first battle as a levy conscript and had no idea what the hell he'd just done. Like his entire world had just shattered, and he didn't recognize the new one he'd been thrust into.

With a concerted effort, she steadied her breathing, pushing more coarse words back down her throat. Her Master couldn't help her win this war, couldn't help her prove her worthiness, if he fell apart.

"Get up," she ordered him. "Come on, on your feet."

He didn't move, and in the end, she had to once again put her hands on him. Shirou wavered badly, and she ended up having to practically carry him out of the kitchen and towards his room.

"It's fine, Master." Mordred paused, then grumbled, "Well, not really, but you're young and we've still alive. Means we're still in this fight. You've got a good heart, probably as good as Galahad's… it's just too big sometimes. It needs some armor."

"Saber… I… I don't know if I can do this."

"Of course you can. You've got the greatest knight in the history of Britain on your side." She hauled his bedroom door open. "Nothing's changed, Master. We're going to win this thing, and we're going to keep the commoners of your city alive while we do it. You rest up, tomorrow we'll go hunting for Caster. If she's the one behind all the weird crap, the sooner we deal with her the safer this city will be."

"…all right." He managed to stagger into his room without her help, but called back when she turned to leave. "Saber? What kind of hero were you?"

She paused, then exhaled without looking at him. "Isn't it obvious? I tried to be both. Tried to do what I wanted, and do good while I did it."

"…did you?"

"I thought I did." Her shoulders rose and fell. "I was even happy for a while. Then… it all went to hell, and I died with my father's lance buried in my stomach. Get some sleep, Master. You'll need to be well rested tomorrow."

* * *

Hello again. A pleasure to see you so soon after our last meeting.

This chapter was written by **Kat-2V**. He wrote this over the course of yesterday, finishing it up today, and the Loresingers and I were able to quickly clean it up and give you something. He decided he didn't have much to say along with it, so I just want to say that I believe he did an excellent job. We had been discussing this idea for months now but weren't able to figure out exactly how it would work, until he finally figured it out after a late-night brainstorming session over voice chat.

I'm glad to have this as part of Saga, as I am glad to have his Saber Alter chapter be part of it. Hopefully you guys will be able to feel the same.

Thanks again to the rest of the Loresingers for their help with this: **Aberron**, **TungstenCat**, **Exstarsis**, **KentaKazami**, and **nd7878**. Every day that I get to work with them is another day I consider myself lucky and blessed.

Your ending theme is _Keepers of the Gate_ by **Andrew Hulshult**.

Thanks for reading.


	45. Caster of Midrash 3

A timer rang, and Shirou spun towards his oven, turning it off as he pulled out the baked tonkatsu and yams. Without a cooking mitt it should have burnt his hand, but a little bit of reinforcement dulled it down to a light sear that only made him hiss instead of scream in pain. Other magi might criticize such absurd use of magic for a trivial task like this, but other magi also had a hobby of buying puppies just to kill them so as to harden their children.

Or so the old man had said.

While he took care of dinner, Caster was extending and enhancing the wards around the property. An event like this was liable to be taken advantage of by any of the Servants who weren't invited, so as a precaution she was making sure that they would not be interrupted. Illya had very reluctantly agreed to stay away as to keep their own partnership secret, though not before extracting a promise of compensation in the form of a date.

He was still having a hard time wrapping his head around the concept of taking a girl who called him "onii-chan" on a date, but refusing her felt wrong. Not only because he disliked making her sad, but because it was robbing her of more time with the only family she had left. Admittedly it was quite the twisted way of spending time together...

_I don't want to think about this anymore. _

"Finished!" As if by some well-timed stage direction on the screenplay of the universe, Caster slid the door open. "Now we shouldn't have any uninvited guests interrupting the banquet."

"I didn't prepare anywhere _near_ enough food for a banquet," Shirou replied as he stirred the miso soup. "Please don't make my job any more difficult."

"Sorry, sorry," she said with the wave of a hand, casting a gaze over the room with a satisfied grin. "Hmm... I did a pretty good job."

"Yeah, thanks again. I didn't want to have to get the other table out." There was a larger table buried in the shed, but it was covered in dust and probably too cracked to even hold many dishes. Shirou shuddered at the idea of serving dinner on such filthy furniture. Caster was kind enough to have doubled the size of his table with her magecraft, and he had only needed to pull out a few more mats and cushions.

"You were paying attention, right?" He turned to her. She seemed as if she was expecting something.

"Paying attention to what?"

Her expression turned cross.

"Shirou." He winced. Her tone had turned into that of a lecturer. "I have _not_ been painstakingly trying to teach you magecraft for the past week just so you could ignore such an _excellent_ opportunity to learn on your own. You could have noticed the way I was manipulating the existing alarm ward to connect with my own without triggering it. Did you?"

"I was cooking!" he protested. "Do you want me to burn myself because I wasn't paying enough attention to the food, or worse, burn dinner?!"

She pointed at his hand, where the mark of the baking pan had still not worn away. He hastily put his hand behind his back.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," he said.

She arched an eyebrow.

"I didn't say anything."

Before Shirou could reply indignantly, a small chime went off. Caster nodded.

"And that's... the Tohsaka apprentice and Assassin. Are you going to greet them or should I?"

"I still have things to do in the kitchen," he said, motioning towards the rice cooker. "Would you mind?"

"Not at all." She nodded and walked to the door, adjusting her formal robes. "We want to put our best face forward, after all."

"Ouch." He shook his head with a smile, recognizing the tease for what it was. He started to plate the meal onto serving dishes. All that time working at the Copenhagen paid off in his role as a host. Not that he got to be in that role very often.

The table was about a third of the way ready when he heard the front door slide open.

"Thank you for accepting our invitation," Caster's melodic voice carried through the walls. "I hope you were not accosted on your journey."

A moment of silence, then a woman whom he didn't recognize spoke. That must have been Assassin.

"It was very peaceful, thank you. This neighborhood that your Master has set up in is quite snug."

"Huh… so this is Emiya's place? I never thought he'd have an entire mansion to himself..." He recognized Tohsaka's mumble.

"Please, come in. The others haven't arrived yet, so we are still preparing the banquet, but would you care for refreshments?"

"We would be delighted to partake in your finest wine," Assassin said. His stomach dropped as he heard them shuffle around, likely taking off their shoes to put on house slippers.

_I don't have any wine. I can't buy any, and the old man definitely didn't leave any around. Damn it, should have thought of that. We're screwed, we're completely and utterly fu—_

"I'm afraid we're saving the... _richer_ beverages for later in the evening, once business has been settled." Bless his Servant. If nothing else, she bought him time to figure something out.

_I'm gonna have to get her something special later._

He slapped his cheeks, realizing that his eavesdropping had prevented him from setting up the table further.

_Focus! Serving! Be a host!_

He quickly set up the kettle on the stove and brought even more dishes onto the table, having finished two-thirds by the time the door slid open. First Caster walked in, looking every bit like the matriarch of the house that she was. Tohsaka came next, and though her expression was somewhat apprehensive, as soon as the aroma of dinner wafted over, her guard dropped. It wasn't hard to guess that she was _very_ hungry. Finally, Assassin entered, her tanned complexion and long white dress-robe reminding him of deserts and pyramids.

If the robes didn't clue him in, the hieroglyphic on her necklace was enough to guess her origin.

"Welcome," he said in the most formal tone he could conjure, which to him felt more like the honking of a goose rather than actual human speech. "Please be seated, the tea will be ready shortly."

"...you clean up well, Emiya," Tohsaka said, looking him over. He breathed a silent sigh of relief. His old man still had some suits lying around, and he was lucky enough that he actually fit into them.

"Thank you," he nodded at her with a smile. Her smile grew more strained as he looked back at her. After a few moments, she huffed and sat down. Caster threw him a look.

_What? What did I do wrong?_

'_She was waiting for a compliment in return,'_ she replied over the bond. '_Good start.'_

_Damn it._

The chimes rang out again.

"And that must be the other two," Caster said, her regal smile unaffected by his blunder. "I'll be back in a moment."

She closed the door behind her as she walked out, and Shirou was left waiting for the kettle to boil in the uncomfortable silence that followed. He had hosted people before, though not very often, but such a formal dinner was beyond his meager experience. He awkwardly moved his weight from one leg to the other, then opened the pantry to pull out the tea bags.

_Green or black... perhaps ginger..._

"So... your hair looks nice," Shirou said, still rummaging in the pantry.

"Do you always compliment your condiments, Emiya?" He winced. Tohsaka's tone was painfully sweet. "Ahaha. I didn't know you were such a charmer to your ingredients."

Before he could come up with some kind of reply, he heard the front door slide open again.

"Thank you for accepting our invitation," Caster said in the same manner as before. "I hope you were not accosted on your journey."

"Only a few cowardly boys who fled before I could decide whether to kill them or collar them." That must have been Rider. He couldn't conceive of any human being alive who would talk so arrogantly. Not even that one American he had met at the airport, with his broken Japanese and greasy blonde hair, was so pretentious. "I took the liberty of bringing drinks as a gift to celebrate our new alliance."

"Why, thank you," Caster replied politely. "I look forward to enjoying this later tonight."

Shirou's gaze focused back into the pantry, and he pulled out a dozen assorted tea bags. If nothing else, his guests would surely know which one they'd like best. He managed to put a smile on his face as he turned back around, the kettle boiling just in time.

"I'll join you in just a moment," he said.

"Ah, now that your condiments have turned you down, you fall back to the stove." Tohsaka's smile promised nothing but pain.

"I never knew men could have such interests..." Assassin muttered, though not quiet enough for him to determine whether she was actually participating in the conversation. "The modern era has such different... proclivities..."

Tohsaka choked on something, and he felt his face go bright red. To both his relief and mortification, Caster chose that moment to reenter with the other guests. Rider strutted in, her posture screaming superiority. Her Master was also dressed in a sharp maroon suit, though the cases of mead she carried under each arm put a damper on that image.

"W-Welcome," he said with only a slight stammer and a cough. "Please make yourself at home. I'll be over with tea shortly."

"No need." Rider motioned to her Master. "I already brought drinks."

"They can wait until after we conduct our business," Caster said politely, weaving her way nearer to Shirou. "It's best to negotiate with a sober mind, no?"

"What is there to negotiate?" Rider said, waving dismissively. "Lancer needs to go down, we can beat her if we join forces. I don't see why this needs to go to committee."

"Hold on," Tohsaka interjected. "I'm not entirely on board with this. We need to figure out how long this lasts, and what happens after we beat Lancer."

Assassin nodded in agreement with her master. "And how will we go about finding, and then fighting Lancer? Many things need to be determined before we can finalize an agreement."

"Ugh, fine." Rider sighed melodramatically. "Get the stupid tea bags and let's hash this out already."

'_I can already tell who's going to be the troublemaker,'_ Caster said through their bond. '_Keep a close eye on her.'_

_...but where am I supposed to look?_

Unlike the other guests, Rider had come in dressed very skimpily, more akin to a celebrity than a warrior. It left more skin on display than he was comfortable with, and he was honestly not sure how to watch her without it seeming inappropriate.

'_Right between her eyes. Easiest way to appear as if you're looking at her without actually doing so, though try to look natural.'_

_What does natural look like?_

'_...never mind, just watch her Master instead. She's ominously quiet.'_

Caster walked into the kitchen to help him with setting up the table as Rider and her Master sat down across from Tohsaka and Assassin. Shirou started by bringing over the kettle on a warming plate and a long ramekin filled with tea bags. A second trip brought over the last of the food and mugs for the tea, and soon all six of them were seated. Shirou sat at the head of the table with Caster at his right.

"Help yourselves," he indicated and began to serve himself some cutlet. Further silence ensued as they all began to dine. Tohsaka's expression melted from annoyance to shock, and then into delight. Assassin was not far behind.

"Emiya, this is incredible!" his fellow student exclaimed. "What did you put in this?"

"It's just a regular homemade tonkatsu recipe," he shrugged, keeping his pride in his gut. "Nothing too special."

"This is...!" Assassin held up the breaded cutlet, stars in her eyes. "Never in my life did any of my chefs—I mean, this is acceptable. Perfectly adequate for a divine ruler like myself. You have my compliments."

"I'm impressed," Rider said as she examined the sticky rice she had taken a bite of. "You've got quite the talent. How do you feel about working for me as my personal chef? I pay very well."

"I appreciate the offer," he said with a smile, "but I'll have to decline. I like to cook for everyone."

"Hmm." Rider's intense gaze pinned him down. "Suit yourself."

"Are we done with small talk?" Rider's Master said, her voice a coarse alto sound. "We have an alliance to forge."

"Yes, please," Rider agreed. "As delicious as this is, let's get to the meat of the evening."

"Let's start with introductions," Caster said. "If we are to be allies, I wish to know who you are, as I am trusting you with my life and the life of my Master."

A tense silence settled onto the room. Caster nodded.

"I wouldn't force you to do it without doing so myself, of course. I am class Caster, and my true name is Makeda, Queen of Sheba. I'm proficient both on offense and defense, so wherever we lack strength I will make sure to fill in the gaps."

Her smile was charming and easygoing as she spoke. She was an excellent negotiator, and he was glad to have her by his side. She looked at him, and he coughed.

"I'm Shirou Emiya," he said. "Just... just a guy."

The tense silence quickly turned awkward.

'_A little more,'_ Caster prodded. '_Tell them your wish.'_

_That's a bit personal..._

'_Yes, well, so is revealing my identity to four possible adversaries. You think I haven't calculated the risk? Make it happen, Shirou.'_

He sighed.

"I, uh..." He found that he couldn't meet anyone's gazes. "My wish for the Grail... is a world where what happened ten years ago can't happen again."

The obvious question hung in the air, but no one asked it, and thus he looked to Tohsaka.

"I'm Rin Tohsaka, heir to the Tohsaka clan," she said easily, and then also looked away. "My wish... well..."

_Okay, at least I'm not the only one making things awkward. Take that, Tohsaka!_

'_Pettiness is unbecoming of you, Shirou.'_

_Yeah, well so is calling me a stove-lover!_

'_You are in front of it quite a lot... and you handle it very delicately.'_

_Don't you—!_

"If I'm being honest, I just want to win," Tohsaka finally said.

"That's a good wish," Caster said. "It asks for nothing and thus earns everything. You will go far."

The other student flushed, and her Servant coughed politely.

"I am class Assassin, and my true name is Nitocris, last pharaoh of the Sixth Dynasty." She brought her hands together in front of her. "I'm better at defense than offense, but I am perfectly capable of flanking around an enemy Servant to strike at their Master."

Assassin looked to the other Master, who looked around the table once.

"Bazett," she said. "I'm trying to save someone."

Shirou couldn't help but smile.

_I think she and I will get along just fine._

'_Careful there. I'm still not so sure about her.'_

_Anyone who wants to save another person cannot be bad._

'_I will add a little more to my prayers for you tonight, Shirou.'_

"And last but _definitely_ not least," Rider proclaimed, thrusting her chest out with a confident smirk, "Medb, Queen of Connacht and the best Rider to ever lay hands on you. I am very, very good on offense, so feel free to watch as I bring Lancer to her knees."

"Wait, so you don't really need us at all, then!" Tohsaka pointed an accusing finger at the Servant. "Why are you even trying to pretend like you want an alliance?"

"A Queen needs to keep court, does she not?" Rider motioned to the table. "And there is no one better in this godforsaken backwater to keep court with than fellow royalty. I believe we can help each other, even after Lancer is defeated."

"But only one gets the Grail," Assassin said quietly, her violet gaze switching between the other two Servants. "I have a wish, and I'm sure both of you do as well. In the end we'll have no choice but to fight."

"That is also something we have to discuss," Caster said with a sigh. "There is a solution to this issue, but you're not going to like it."

"Well, let's hear it then!" Rider leaned on an elbow and looked at her. Bazett, though not having turned to face her fully, was clearly interested. "I certainly don't want to kill you guys if I don't have to."

"Well..."

**[Collision to collusion.]**

"...I think I need that drink now," Medb said with a dark expression. Makeda smiled wanly, looking to Shirou. He was quick enough on the draw to understand, and got up to bring glasses.

"It was a lie?" Nitocris uttered, a haunted look in her eyes. "We... don't even get a wish?"

"I'm afraid so," she said. "Or rather, what you wish for will be distorted beyond all possible recognition, and you will never be happy with the result."

Makeda looked at the Tohsaka girl, who was troubled but not in shock as her Servant was. She really did admire the young magus for not having any ambition for the Grail. There were few who would give up the chance to have a wish granted, and from the beginning she had wanted nothing more than a trophy to acknowledge an achievement.

"And only the Master gets to see what we have wrought on the world," she continued. "We return to the throne, unchanged, without even the memories of these few weeks, only to do it again somewhere and somewhen else. An endless cycle."

She laughed humorlessly. "Incredible, isn't it? We carve our name into the annals of time only to become slaves to the whims of selfish and craven fools who fight over a monkey's paw. Were I to be summoned by someone more untoward than my Master, well..."

She glanced at Shirou as he came back with six glasses. Did he actually expect to join them despite being underage?

"Better left unsaid, I think."

Nitocris nodded, then looked up as Shirou put a glass in front of her and Rin. Medb didn't even smirk at him as he placed glasses before her, but Bazett gave him a nod and handed him a bottle of mead to serve.

"Until I say stop," she said, and Shirou nodded, popping the cork off the mead and beginning to pour. Bazett said nothing until the drink came close to the brim.

"Stop."

Shirou complied, and she switched her glass with Medb's empty glass, receiving an arched eyebrow from her Servant. Bazett nodded at Shirou again, who repeated the process until her glass was near-full. He walked over to the other two, where Nitocris took a half-full glass and Rin, after a moment's hesitation, got the same.

He approached her and poured her a half-full glass as well, but as he went to pour some for himself she sent a strong sense of disapproval over their bond.

_I will allow you a third of a fingernail's worth._

'_But Tohsaka—'_

_You are the host. Even were you not underage, you have a responsibility to your guests. She is overestimating herself and will likely end up either in the restroom or with an awful hangover in the morning. Perhaps both._

"A toast," she said, raising a glass before he could protest any further. "To the gift of your partnerships, to our lost wishes and dreams, and to the hope that what we do brings a brighter tomorrow."

"To pyrrhic victories," Nitocris said.

"To hundreds of years of wasted time," Rin muttered angrily.

"Yeah, all that's nice and stuff," Medb drawled, "but honestly, I just really need to get drunk right now. Be ready with that bottle, kid."

Shirou hastily finished pouring the small amount of drink she had permitted him and nodded, raising his glass with everyone else.

"Cheers."

They all threw back their glasses. Shirou was the first to finish, easily. Rin only got halfway through hers before she put it down and coughed loudly. Nitocris put her glass down soon after just to pat her Master on the back, mumbling "There, there. You get used to it."

Makeda finished hers easily and set it down smoothly, watching as both Medb and Bazett, in synchronization, tilted their heads back to down their drinks to the last drop. They slammed their glasses onto the table at the same time.

"_More!"_ they both yelled, and Shirou banged his knee on the table as he got up to serve them.

"Ow."

"So then what the hell are we going to do about Lancer?" Medb asked after they had all drank a second glass. Rin was already swaying in place some. "Oh, by the way, her True Name's Scáthach. If I can't get my wish granted, then I will be happy to end this by breaking her face in."

"The Queen of the Land of Shadows..." Makeda said, nodding at Shirou as he poured her another glass. "Quite the strange Grail War. Were it not for Berserker, I would assume that the Grail has a fetish for crowns."

Medb snorted, and Nitocris coughed on her drink.

"As I understand it," the pharaoh said, "she is considered effectively immortal, no? I am not well suited to… direct combat."

"Hmm..." Medb sipped at her drink as she thought. "Well, play to your strengths. Makeda and I will draw her out and distract her while you take out her Master. She's an incredibly powerful fighter, but two-on-one should be sufficient enough to pin her down."

_And of course, if worse comes to worst, I'm sure Illya would not mind contributing Heracles to that battle._

'_I don't want to burden her if I don't have to,'_ her Master replied, and she almost rolled her eyes.

_It's not a matter of burden, Shirou. If she is your family, as she declares herself to be, then she would support you in your time of need. If you trust her, then you can rely on her._

'_Still...'_

_Think about it, please._

"Yes, that would work fine." Nitocris smiled. "It's incredible how useful an alliance can be in a situation such as this."

"Makes you wonder why people don't do it more often," Medb agreed.

"Magi," Bazett said at once as she put down her third glass.

"Magi," Rin agreed, her words slurring together. "I... I really can't see those crusty old bastards doing anything like this. They're too busy sa... sab... ruining each other's lives."

Nitocris looked concernedly at her Master, then turned to Shirou.

"Do you happen to have somewhere that she can stay?" she asked.

"Yeah, take a right out of this room and it'll be the second-to-last door on your right," he said. "Do you want me to show you?"

"I can find it myself!" Rin raised her voice, pushing herself up from the table and nearly toppling over if not for her Servant catching her.

"Please," Nitocris said, smiling in an almost embarrassed fashion.

"Okay, come on Tohsaka." Shirou took her hand and her face instantly flushed. "You need to know your limits."

"I—!" She seemed ready to protest before she was interrupted by a near-fall once again. Shirou caught her and put an arm around her stomach. "Oh God, why are the walls spinning?"

"Children." Bazett sighed and stood, the contents of her fourth drink disappearing in the motion. "You mind if I inspect the grounds?"

Medb scowled at her Master, her fifth drink rising and falling. "Tonight is for _relaxation_, Master."

"Go right ahead," Shirou said as he slid the door open. "Let me know if you need anything else, please."

"I will." Bazett poured another glass for herself, emptying the last few drops in the bottle, before following him out and turning to the entrance. She closed the door behind her.

"I've been trying to get the stick out of her ass since day one," Medb grumbled. "Right from the start she was disappointed because she didn't get Cú." She sighed. "I would have been so much happier if he had been here, but no, instead we get that Scottish hag."

"I know how you feel," Nitocris commiserated. "My Master was... none too happy with the fact that she did not get Saber, as she had been aiming for. It took a while for her to... adjust her plans."

"Speaking of which, have either of you met the Saber? We have yet to encounter them..." Makeda interjected, trying to get back on topic.

"Oi! Stop that!" Medb waved her glass towards her, some mead sloshing about as she did so. "No more business! I'm trying to get _wasted_ here, and you know how hard that is as a Servant!"

Makeda raised her hands in a sign of acquiescence.

"Okay, no more business." She pulled out and uncapped the second bottle of mead. "Shall we?"

**[Their thoughts thoroughly thumbed, the wassailers whine wistfully.]**

"And then he says, 'oh no, I really didn't do that much,' because _bartending during rush hour isn't valuable work!"_ Makeda couldn't help but raise her voice, throwing back another glass. She had lost count after the seventeenth. It was a good thing she had set up that sound barrier. "I wanted to strangle him!"

Medb slapped the table, laughing uproariously. Nitocris contributed with her own giggling that had steadily become more unhinged as the night went on.

"I swear to my ex-husband that if I could, I would pay for him to take a year's worth of economics courses," she continued, unable to stop herself from ranting. "There is a basic value to time and labor! The Hebrews didn't throw off their Egyptian shackles just to put on Canaanite ones after forty years in the Sinai! As an employee, you demand fair compensation for the time you spend! Not only is he sabotaging himself, he's devaluing and undercutting every potential worker after him! Why is this so hard to understand?!"

"With guys like him, you can't be on the backseat _at all,"_ Medb said, swishing her drink around. "You have to take control of everything. It's annoying as all hell, but eventually just by sheer habit he'll forget those silly notions and learn to recognize his time as valuable."

"I would, but there's somebody else getting in my way..." She wasn't drunk enough to reveal the identity of their other ally, but vague terms would let her vent. "She's got him wrapped around her pinky finger and at this point I can only lecture him."

"You can do _more _than lecture!" Nitocris reached out and shook her shoulder. "You are a Pharaoh in all but title! You can _dictate_ what he's going to do, because it's your divine right! Tell him how it is!"

Makeda shook her head and sighed.

"Were it only so simple..."

"It _is!"_ Medb agreed, putting her hand on her other shoulder and shaking her even harder. "You're his _Queen!_ He hasn't used a single Command Seal because he's too scared to, so _clearly_ he just wants you to take control! Go for it!"

"I wish _my_ Master was anywhere _near_ as pliable as he is," Nitocris groaned, rocking back and forth as she nursed her drink. "She's got the head of a bull, and I've seen _fortress walls_ less stubborn than her!"

Makeda snorted.

"Surely you exaggerate," she said.

"No! I'm not joking at all!" the pharaoh emphasized. "She threw herself off a building and expected me to catch her once while we were running away from Lancer! Excuse me, your highness, but I'm an _Assassin,_ not a _parachute!"_

There was a brief interlude of laughter at that.

"And by Horus's left foot, when she realized I was an Assassin she looked like she was going to break her equipment in sheer rage!" Nitocris continued. "And then she wasted a command seal to _make me clean up her mess!_ Me! A Pharaoh! The _indignities_ I have suffered at her hand are just—!"

She let out a wordless yell of anger, grabbing the bottle of mead and chugging down large gulps, to Medb's whoops of encouragement.

"Drain 'em dry!" the Rider cried. It seems that Nitocris took her literally, for she did not stop until the bottle was empty, and when she slammed it down on the table she let out a loud burp.

"...endless," she finished. "They are endless. I have never been so disrespected, not since—" the rest of her sentence was let out as a hiss as she held her head. "Not since a long time ago."

"You two're making me appreciate my Master quite a bit more," Medb said. "Being slaved to children sounds like hell. At least Bazett is an adult, though she is definitely a bit _too_ serious. I've been trying to teach her how to enjoy the little things, you know? But I don't think she's gotten over not getting Cú at the start."

"She has to learn to let go," Makeda said. "It's not healthy to hold onto grudges."

"Heh, I don't know about _that,"_ Medb chuckled. "I've carried quite a few grudges that led me time and time again to victory."

"I am..." Nitocris started, then hesitated. "Yes, grudges are something I was very familiar with when I was alive."

"But this is too much, I agree with that," Medb said, nodding in Makeda's direction. "I mean, every time I try to have a little fun with an enemy, or hell, even when I just bring someone home to play with, she gets mad at me! Like, she _clearly_ works out, her body is very built."

The Rider flexed her bicep to emphasize her point.

"So what's wrong with a little workout of my own, you know?"

"Nothing's wrong with that," Makeda consoled.

"So what have you done to try to convince her?" Nitocris asked. Medb lifted her fingers one by one to count her points

"I tried taking her out shopping, but of course she just glared at me because I'd be spending _her_ money, so then I offered to take some sucker's cash and she nearly used a Command Seal to order me not to steal, _ugh._ Fine, okay, so I thought maybe she'd be a clubber. You know how uptight people like her can be the hardest dancers? Not in her case. No, nothing worked."

She groaned and put her head in her hands.

"It's like she _refuses_ to have fun. What's it gonna take to make you live a little, huh?!"

"There, there." Makeda reached over and patted the Rider on the back. "I'm sure you'll get through eventually."

"I wish I had _your_ Master," Medb said as she leaned back. "He seems so easy to deal with, boys like him always are."

"I didn't deal with... _that_ often," Nitocris said. "I... how do you take charge?" Makeda couldn't help but notice how uncomfortable the pharaoh looked asking that.

"It's reaaaaally easy!" Medb laughed as she drank once more. "You flash some skin, you stay on top _all the time, _and you show that you are _not to be fucked with._ Oh, and of course, you take what you want, when you want it. If you don't, well..."

Her expression turned serious as she put down her glass.

"I saw many women in other courts taken by force because they couldn't stand up to the men around them. Half of the battle is image."

Nitocris made a sound of agreement.

"I... never even got that chance," she said quietly, staring down into her drink. "I was a puppet for the old men who killed my brothers. I was too young to stand up to them and... well, in the end, the only thing I really did for myself was kill them. I wish..."

She took a deep breath, then finished the rest of her mead.

"If I had just been _stronger!"_ She slammed the glass onto the table. "If I could have... if only I could have saved at least _one_ of them! Maybe... maybe things wouldn't have collapsed... maybe we could have prospered for just a little longer..."

"Maybes and what-ifs serve no purpose except to chip away at your conviction," Makeda said, putting her hand on top of Nitocris's. "Your history is your own, and though your regrets have shaped you, they do not define you."

"Damn right," Medb agreed. "You only have a small amount of time to live again. That's what this stupid tournament does more than anything; it's not a second chance to fix your mistakes, it's the opportunity to be happy when you never got to."

Nitocris nodded slowly.

"Thank you," she said after a little while. "I guess I'm still not over the fact that I'm not getting a wish. Sorry."

"Don't worry about it," Medb waved a hand. "You'll learn to let it go. I'm just glad I get to finally kick that stupid hag's ass, that's the only wish _I_ want granted now."

"I suppose, if anything, I want to start putting my Master on the right path," Makeda said. "I don't think what he believes in is necessarily wrong, but I think there are better ways of going about it. Helping old ladies cross the street is nice and all, but he could be doing more. I know he can, he just needs... a little push."

"I'll have to think about what I want to do..." Nitocris sighed. "For now, I think I should go check on my Master. She's definitely going to need some help when she wakes up."

"Kids these days." Medb rolled her eyes. "She couldn't even make it to midnight. Back in my day, the sun was already up by the time we finished partying."

"Don't phrase it like that," Makeda shook her head. "It makes you sound old."

"And? So what?" Medb arched an eyebrow. "If you wanna be literal, we're all over a thousand. I'm actually younger than both of you! Ms. Pharaoh over there is getting close to her forty-first century, and you're, what, like three millennia?"

"You didn't have to take it there..." Makeda mumbled, ears drooping.

"You started it." Medb shrugged, then picked up the rest of the mead bottles. "Anyway, I'm gonna go share a few drinks with my Master, see if I can get her to loosen up a bit."

"Then I will see you two again in the morning," Nitocris said, filling up an empty glass with water from the sink and walking to the door.

"Yes." Makeda nodded, smiling at the two of them. "Thank you. This was a pleasure."

"We should do it again some time," Medb said. "At the very least before we have to finish this thing."

"I would like that very much," Nitocris agreed.

As the other Servants walked out, Makeda felt glad that the evening had worked out the way it did, even if it was somewhat unexpected. No matter how much she enjoyed Shirou's company, the Master/Servant dynamic always hung in the back of her head. She was happy to make friends with other Servants, especially those who could sympathize with her as they did.

_I can only hope that the next time we do this won't be the last._

* * *

Hello there. It's good to see you again.

I almost never wrote this chapter. You have heard me go on and on about other characters getting shafted by DelightWorks, but this one was an even more personal offense. In every story, in every event, in every line of dialogue, she had I could feel the prejudice dripping from the writer's pen and I nearly snapped my phone in half. It was my worst fears confirmed—DelightWorks genuinely seems incapable of handling anyone from outside of the East with any sensitivity.

Someone else was able to give me some hope, though. _Fate Grand Order: Ring of Promise_ by **The Pyromancer** is the only other story I have ever seen handle the Queen of Sheba with anywhere near the dignity she deserves, and of course it is far superior to any portrayal I could possibly depict. I wish I was as competent as that author is, but instead, I can only point you in their direction. Please go read it.

A few other stories I'd like to recommend: _The Death of a Father_ by **connortrain12**, _Storyteller of Shinjuku_ by **Exstarsis**, _A Mother's Love_ and _Throne of Roses_ by **PrincessAmerica101**, and _The Masters of Pasio_, by **nd7878**. Please give them your support.

My gratitude to my Loresingers for fixing all the fiddly bits and making the language as tight as they could in the timetable I gave them (I literally finished this at 12:30 am yesterday).

Your ending theme is _This Silence is Mine_ by **Chihiro Onitsuka**.

Thanks for reading.


	46. Osakabehime 3

**+Neethime 4:20 AM**

To be fair, you have to have a high IQ to understand The Saga of Shirou's Summons.

* * *

**+Neethime 1:32 am**

i won bitches B)

UPLOADED: holygrail dot jpg

**+SheroOfJustice 1:34 am**

_in reply to +Neethime_

WHAT THE HELL

IS THAT THE BOWL YOU MICROWAVED THE INSTANT RamEN IN

**+Neethime 1:45 am**

_in reply to +SheroOfJustice_

fyi it's a breakfast for champions

**+SheroOfJustice 1:46 am**

_in reply to +Neethime_

Okay, so does this mean you're finally leaving? My house is a mess and you never let me clean your room

**+Neethime 1:48 am**

_in reply to +SheroOfJustice_

nah i still got some amazoness packages coming

**+Neethime 1:54 am **

_in reply to +SheroOfJustice_

fine bitch, just cleaned up so stfu i can hear you from the attic

**+SheroOfJustice 1:56 am**

_in reply to +Neethime_

Great! I knew you'd come around

**+SheroOfJustice 1:58 am**

_in reply to +Neethime_

Oh my god did you literally just flush everything down my sink? And what's in those bottles?

**+SheroOfJustice 2:13 am**

Welp, I'm done with this...goodbye fuyuki...hello Wichita...

**+SheroOfJustice 2:16 am**

Anyone know any good YouTubers to learn banjo or mandolin from? I wanna blend in with the cowboys

**+Grail-Kun 2:30 AM **

_in reply to +SheroOfJustice _

You can still be a hero of justice, just need to kill a million people! I'll even give you the knife!

**+Grail-kun 2:31 AM **

_in reply to +SheroOfJustice _

I mean hero creation kit! Come back here

* * *

**+OGMIYA 9:17 pm**

and you can... tweet from here? why? can I kill someone with it?

**+KissTheCook 12:34 am **

_in reply to +OGMIYA_

dad you're embarrassing me

**+SheroOfJustice 12:34 am **

_in reply to +OGMIYA_

dad you're embarrassing me

**+OGMIYA 5:51 am**

+SheroOfJustice +KissTheCook who the fuck are you?

* * *

**+KissTheCook 4:45 pm**

i am the bone of my sword

stell is my body and fire is my blood

UPLOADED: coolUBWpose dot jpg

**+Neethime 4:53 pm**

_in reply to +KissTheCook_

ouch oof ow , cut myself on all that edge

* * *

**+Neethime 4:13 PM**

please stop these posts saying im a "simp". they are causing me trouble with family and police. i have never simped in my life. im a mere baka

* * *

**+SheroOfJustice 4:20 am**

GUYS ANOTHER SABER BEAT ME UP WHY DOES THIS KEEP HAPPENING

**+SheroOfJustice 4:35 am**

+OfficialChurch IS THIS ALLOWED?

**+NightsOfRebellion 4:45 am**

_in reply to +OnceAndBorgarKing_

HAHA, FATHER! I HAVE REBELLED ONCE AGAIN, AND BEAT THE SHIT OUTTA SOME BRAT! You would NEVER!

**+OnceAndBorgarKing 5:33 am**

+BurgerKingOfficial hi i ordered 19 triple whopper meals but only received 17, can I get a refund and voucher?

**+SheroOfJustice 5:37 am**

_in reply to +OnceAndBorgarKing_

IS THAT WHY I HAVE OVER A HUNDRED THOUSAND YEN CHARGE SPENT AT BURGER KING? WHY WOULD YOU SPEND MY MONEY LIKE THAT YOU'RE NOT EVEN MY SERVANT ANYMORE

**+OnceAndBorgarKing 5:49 am**

_in reply to +SheroOfJustice_

shouldnt have left me your wallet too, dumbass lmao

**+Neethime 6:34 am**

_in reply to OnceAndBorgarKing_

yo stop that i need that money for figmas also wtf shirou

**+Neethime 7:30 am**

Also +OnceAndBorgarKing who the FUCK do you think you are, I'm shirous servant now so why dont you and your son stop beating him up so suzuka and I can have a turn

* * *

**+Issei 7:49 am**

This Holy Grail War business doesn't feel anything like what I learned in history class...

**+OGMIYA 7:50 am**

_in reply to +Issei_

I was in history. But only once.

**+SheroOfJustice 7:52 am**

_in reply to +Issei_

... I havent seen you at school for a month now. Are you okay, Issei?

**+Issei 7:55 am**

_in reply to +SheroOfJustice_

Shirou. A man only has so much time on this earth. A man has only so much life to live.

A man cannot waste it chained to traditional notions of living. A man must release the societal shackles that they were chained with at birth and find freedom in the arms of the natural world.

**+Issei 7:56 am**

_in reply to +SheroOfJustice_

I'll see you on the other side, my old friend.

**+SheroOfJustice 7:57 am**

_in reply to +Issei_

ISSEEEEEIIIIII

**+IrishDog 7:58 am**

_in reply to +SheroOfJustice_

Dude chill I'm just taking him fishing ffs

* * *

**+Neethime 6:56 pm**

cant wait to go to comiket with +SheroOfJustice ^_^

**+ZoomerArcher 6:57 pm**

_in reply to +Neethime_

and not me? you motherfucker. I thought we were friends.

**+Neethime 7:01 pm**

_in reply to +ZoomerArcher _

...Top 30 reasons why Osakabehime is sorry. Number 5 will surprise you.

**+ZoomerArcher 7:03 pm**

_in reply to +Neethime_

Top 30 anime deaths! Number 1: YOUR FUCKING ASS RIGHT NOW

* * *

**+Neethime 4:34 PM**

everytime shirou does something its always "out of character" or "not faithful to the vn" and yet when i go outside i'm "an absolute buffoon" and "can't use the grail as a vibrator"

* * *

**+SuzuChan 3:44 pm**

ok thats it get the fuck over here bat bitch I'm done with this shit +Neethime

**+Neethime 3:47 pm**

_in reply to +SuzuChan_

NO WAIT I HAVENT EMOTIONALLY PREPARED MYSELF IT'S MY FIRST TIME

**+SheroOfJustice 3:48 pm**

_in reply to +Neethime +SuzuChan_

what the actual fuck is going on

**+ThotRider 3:49 pm**

_in reply to +Neethime +SuzuChan +SheroOfJustice_

keep it going I got my dolla store camera ON

**+Neethime 3:50 am**

_in reply to +ThotRider_

u tryna be on world star?

**+ThotRider 3:51 pm**

_in reply to +Neethime_

ye

**+FrenchToast 3:52 pm**

_in reply to +Neethime +SuzuChan +SheroOfJustice +ThotRider_

what's the frickin situaaaation

**+SuzuChan 3:53 pm**

_in reply to +FrenchToast _

who the fuck is this

**+FrenchToast 3:54 pm**

_in reply to +SuzuChan _

I'm the motherfrickin MANAGER

**+Neethime 3:55 pm**

_in reply to +FrenchToast_

OF THE HOLY GRAIL WAR?

**+FrenchToast 3:56 pm**

_in reply to +Neethime_

G-R-A-I-L

**+Neethime 3:57 pm**

_in reply to +FrenchToast_

tell them to take the mfin avenger

out the grail

**+FrenchToast 3:59 pm**

_in reply to +Neethime_

I'm gonna need you to cease that tomfoolery at once

We can't take frick out the grail

**+Neethime 4:00 pm**

_in reply to +FrenchToast_

Why put it in in the first place

I know y'all munchin on shuten's SNAXX

**+FrenchToast 4:01 pm**

_in reply to +Neethime_

Look, we got Romanian Grail War — Avenger free

American Grail War — Avenger free

G-R-A-N-D O-R-D-E-R

**+Neethime 4:02 pm**

_in reply to +FrenchToast_

fuck all that

what bitchass country are you from

where they got this bullshit at

**+FrenchToast** **4:03 pm**

_in reply to +Neethime_

Dorime

**+Neethime 4:04 pm**

_in reply to +FrenchToast_

i knew it

* * *

**+Neethime 4:39 am**

+_EnmaPavilionOfficial_ tell me the name of god you avian piece of shit

**+EnmaPavilionOfficial 4:42 am**

_in reply to +Neethime_

Can you feel your heart burning? Can you feel the struggle within? The fear within me is beyond anything your soul could create. You cannot kill me in a way that matters.

**+Neethime 4:42 am**

_in reply to +EnmaPavilionOfficial_

IM NOT FUKCING SCARED OF YUO

**+SheroOfJustice 6:31 am**

_in reply to +Neethime_

hey hime what the FUCK were you doing last night

**+Neethime 1:49 pm**

_in reply to +SheroOfJustice_

decay exists as an extant form of life

**+SheroOfJustice 1:53 pm**

_in reply to +Neethime_

that's the most terrifying thing I've heard since Berserker screamed me through six walls, have a nice day

* * *

**+KingRama 5:43 am**

Has anyone seen my wife? My beautiful wife, Sita? My love? My one and only? My sun and my moon. My snookum bookum? The spring bloom to my winter's chill? My other half? My cinnamon apple? The bacon to my lettuce and tomato? The bass drop to my dubstep? The Frodo to my Sam? The Thames

**+Neethime 5:55 am**

_in reply to +KingRama_

yo +KingRama u good? had a little too much tonight?

**+KingRama 6:04 am**

_in reply to +Neethime_

I miss my wife, Hime. I miss her a lot.

* * *

**+Neethime 3:48 pm**

you ever wonder why we're here?

Sent from my iPhone

**+KissTheCook 4:28 pm**

_in reply to +Neethime_

No.

What is an iPhone?

**+Neethime 4:30 pm**

_in reply to +KissTheCook_

shit you didnt see that

Sent from the Holy Grail

* * *

**+Neethime 4:40 PM**

relationship ended with +SheroOfJustice, now +BlushingBride is my waifu

**+SheroOfJustice 4:41 PM**

_in reply to +Neethime_

?

we were in a relationship?

**+SheroOfJustice 4:43 PM**

_in reply to +Neethime_

you literally brought her over and had sex so loud I got complaints from the neighbors in the morning

**+Tamako 5:00 PM**

_in reply to +Neethime_

I thought I was your waifu D:

**+Neethime 5:02 PM**

_in reply to +Tamako_

Read

**+SheroOfJustice 5:05 PM**

_in reply to +Neethime +Tamako_

This is a public conversation.

* * *

**+Tamako 5:21 PM**

I've come to make an announcement: Osakabehime is a bitch ass motherfucker.

**+Neethime 5:28 PM**

_in reply to +Tamako_

really? third time? isnt the meme dead by now?

**+Tamako 5:30 PM**

_in reply to +Neethime_

honestly the entirety of the osakabehime series is getting stale, pallan needs to figure out a way to spice it up

**+Neethime 5:31 PM**

_in reply to +Tamako_

What, you mean like stupid 4th wall jokes like these? You know that shit isn't funny

**+Tamako 5:34 PM**

_in reply to +Neethime_

Are you kidding me? It's just an extension of postmodern commentary on man vs. author conflicts, and the only way that you can ease a reader into that is through comedy, you fucking bat witch

**+Neethime 5:35 am**

_in reply to +SheroOfJustice_

cant hear you my game's shitposting too loud

Also WHOSE FUCKIN FAULT WAS IT THAT I GOT BATS

**+Tamako 5:36 PM**

_in reply to +Neethime_

ultimately DelightWorks's fault. don't blame me for this shit, I'm just an extension of another author's pen, just like you are

**+Neethime 5:37 PM**

_in reply to +Tamako_

shut up and end this bit already

* * *

**+Neethime 11:59 AM**

call it a protagonist's intuition, but arent there like one saber too many in this town? we got like, what, six now? banana king isnt even participating, hes just depressed. either way, too many sabers. pls nerf.

**+EndAllSeibas 12:00 AM**

_in reply to +Neethime_

Did someone say "Too many Sabers?"

**+EndAllSeibas 12:04 AM**

Anyways, where we dropping boys?

**+Suzuchan 12:06 AM**

+Neethime great job, bitch. you invited the cop.

**+Neethime 12:10 AM**

not to be a narc but +OfficialChurch +FrenchToast, i'm reporting an interference

**+OfficialChurch 12:35 AM**

_in reply to +Neethime_

Read

**+FrenchToast 12:44 AM**

_in reply to +Neethime_

Read

**+Neethime 12:45 AM**

_in reply to +OfficialChurch +FrenchToast_

i know where you live, fuckers. read ur dumb jesus book with one eye tonight.

* * *

**+SheroOfJustice 3:49 pm**

god and buddha I'm so done with this shit

there's no way this grail war could get any weirder

**+OfficialBBChan 3:51 pm**

Haaaaai~! BB-chan here! I heard that you can make some good money off vtuber simps online, so look forward to my debut stream in Osakabehime 4!

**+Tamako 3:52 pm**

_in reply to +OfficialBBChan_

oh no

**+SheroOfJustice 3:53 pm**

_in reply to +OfficialBBChan_

Hold on, your debut stream in WHAT

* * *

I pray that FFN didn't fuck up the formatting too hard. AO3 is by far the superior version of Neethime chapters, so if you want to see them in their intended form you should head over there. I'm tired-drunk as fuck and thus am not entirely liable or responsible for my actions.

"Tell it to da judge!"

Thanks to **nd7878** for helping me format everything, and thanks to my Discord server for contributing to this chaos. It's a lot of fun to collaborate with my fans on this. You can come join us with the invite code on my profile.

Thanks for reading.


	47. Scáthach 2

**[Some Shadows exist to become doorways to the dark heart of one's soul: Your Shadow of Intent]**

"Translate this English." Lancer was speaking, grinning as she and Rin were walking side by side. Shirou was walking ahead of the others, but not so far that he could not hear. "Tae'rn ta blud up'n mrgn'n due t'wol mek dun dahr ter vehl tae gaet."

Rin's nose wrinkled. "That's not quite English."

"That's not quite the point," Lancer countered. "Translate it."

"What is the real meaning behind it?" Shirou added. "You said this language was part of your runecraft?"

"Mm." Lancer grinned. "But this has deeper meaning."

"Door to veil?" Rin was sounding out some of the sentence.

"The words that my master taught me, before I opened the doorway to the realm of shadows."

"Excuse me?" Shirou stopped. "Is that the same place you go when you disappear?"

"No, Master," she answered. "It is the realm of the dead. I was warned against opening the gate, as it was a dangerous place. The souls of the dead pass through the realm of shadows in order to enter their just afterlife."

"What brought you to that decision?" Shirou asked, carefully. "Wouldn't that place just kill you?"

"Sometimes people seek death. My master died, and I was without guidance. I thought that by speaking one last time I would understand what my life's purpose would be. I spoke the words, and placed the blood of my kill upon the archway. The door opened, and what I thought was my tutor spoke to me from the other side. It beckoned me to come and take a legendary weapon, as the last gift of my master."

Lancer closed her eyes and inhaled deeply.

"From the moment I did so, my soul was damned. My life was frozen in that moment. I don't understand perfectly what happened next, but I could go through the doorway between the worlds at will. At first, when my mind was still tied to the mortal realm. But as I got used to the realm of shadows, its hold became stronger."

"Were you some kind of undead, then?"

"No. I was worse. Immortal and frozen in time." She gave the moon a long look. "It became harder and harder to return to the mortal realm. I understood that the realm of shadows intended to use me as its guardian, or as a warden for its souls. There would be no progress for me if I remained there. So I convinced a local lord to build a castle around the doorway into the realm of shadows. I believe it still stands, as I can look through the door and see the isle and its environs clearly. But I teach you these things because I want something from you after this war."

"Of cou—"

"Emiya!" Rin interrupted, pointing ahead. At the far end of the street, a lone figure strode towards them with confidence. His worn coat billowed in the growing breeze, adding to his imposing presence. "It's a Servant!"

"How astute, Rin," Archer called, materializing. "But in this case we should probably retreat."

"What do you see, Archer?" Lancer asked cautiously.

"I've identified him," Archer said coldly. "Rider, Blackbeard."

Despite not immediately recognizing the name, Shirou couldn't help but feel a shiver up his spine as the man approaching cackled. His laugh was terrible, promising violence and pain. "Oh hoo! You brought me some pretty wenches! I'm sure the others will be happy for the company!" The scent of the sea grew stronger with each step the man took, matched by a growing chill mist. "Maybe I'll mount you to the prow, _darlings_." The man leered, looking at Rin and Lancer hungrily.

Instinctively, Shirou started to move in front of his companions. Their lives were obviously more valuable than his, and this Servant clearly was no simple opponent. But every time he started to move, he thought back to what these women had told him: begging him not to throw his life away, teaching him about what life could mean, showing him how sacrifice was not everything that a hero could be.

"You can't have them," Shirou stated loudly. "Rin, what is the mist?"

"It's part of a bounded field. The other mage must have set up a trap!"

"Would it be stupid to fight that guy?" Shirou asked.

"Yes," Lancer and Archer echoed in unison. "Very," Lancer amended.

"Then I'll take your advice. Lancer, can you break the field? Archer, can you cover her?" Shirou's arm trembled with the desire to fight, an itch demanding to be scratched. But he resisted.

The enemy Servant grinned. "Oh? No taste for blood? I can't respect a man like that." Arrows blasted the dirt around him as he knocked each from the sky without breaking his stride. The wind continued to grow in intensity as a dark structure emerged from the mist, the sounds of cloth catching the wind clear. A flash of white on black caught Shirou's eye, gears finally clicking into place on exactly who this servant was. He remembered tales of a demon whose emblem alone brought his enemies to their knees, looting and plundering as he pleased.

Blackbeard, the infamous pirate, alongside his ominous ship. As the cold mist kept rolling in, its black sails became more pronounced.

The groan of metal filled the air as cannons lurched into place, threatening far more than simple iron as their payload. The scent of gunpowder overpowered even the ocean spray, and Shirou darted towards his group. "Get away from the street, now!"

Blackbeard charged forwards, just as another foe entered the fray. A redhead with an arm flared bright with magic was running forwards, but before the pair reached them, Archer put them on the defensive with a downpour of explosive arrows, filling the air with debris. Behind them, Lancer had her spear and was tracing out runes in the air. Whatever she was doing, he could feel the drain upon his own body. He sank to a knee, clutching his chest as every nerve in his arms burned.

The calm of the night was broken by fire and a thundering roar as the pirate ship's guns went off. "Rin! Get behind me, Lancer can't—" Archer yelled.

But a softer light came from Lancer's spear, and shards of magic shattered into dust. The bounded field had been breached. Behind her was the path they had been walking along, just outside of the school area. They ran, tumbling through the hole as Lancer and Archer came through last. Images of a burning hole in the sky imposed themselves over Shirou's vision, echoing his worst nightmares.

Blackbeard's laughter carried through the acrid smoke and burning trees. "I'll catch you! I'll collect you like all the rest!"

Shirou was gasping for breath as Lancer helped him to his feet. "Come Master. We must run." As the pair darted away, Shirou's arm continued to burn, forcing him to realize just how poorly it would have gone were he to have fought the Servant face-to-face.

"I still have English to teach tomorrow," his Servant commented, "and it would be cruel to skip a pop quiz."

"Slave driver!" Rin yelled, running next to Archer.

"I fear death," Shirou realized with a gasp. "Tohsaka! I finally fear death!"

"That's great, Emiya, please run faster!"

He grinned, keeping pace.

**[Even the Darkest Shadow is cast by Brighter Light]**

Scáthach had fulfilled her deception as a substitute teacher. While it brought her joy, it did not fill the entire day. Watching Rin sweat over Gaelic English was plenty entertaining, but she was left with a lot of time for herself. Shirou had asked her to 'find something to learn' from the modern world. Conveniently, the Grail had given her a Master with spending money, and a general understanding of the local languages. Rin had immediately recommended the shopping district, but Scáthach had only needed one or two outfits from there. There were still many hours before Shirou finished his work.

She had nearly finished her shopping, when she felt a surge of magic. A familiar surge. "A Servant?" she mused. "In broad daylight?"

It was coming from one of the larger buildings that was labeled 'Game Center'. Hesitantly, she approached. The mana coming from the building was nothing more than the presence of a Servant. They weren't actively using magecraft, but without disguising her own presence, they had to know that she was nearby, as well.

Scáthach took a look at the Game Center map. It apparently included large sections of shops dedicated to something called 'Animate'. There was a certain smell to it, a hint of something that quite reminded her of the drinking halls of warriors and men. Though there was a distinct _lack_ of men worthy of the name here. Blinking screens and bright lights were upon every wall, and posters filled in the spaces without. Large devices with screens and interactable buttons and levers were along one side of the building. Disoriented by the visual noise surrounding her, she only recognized the enemy Servant when he came to a stop in front of her.

It was Blackbeard, the man from the night before. "Hey!" He waved, smiling. "Isn't this the best?"

"If you wish to continue our conflict," Scáthach told him quietly, the energy building in her left hand, "I assure you it will be your end."

In an instant, the murderous aura from the previous day returned."If you damage a single stitch of poster or piece of merchandise," Blackbeard growled, "I'll kill you, instead of taking you hostage like all the others. I don't care how many people are here." Then his face relaxed. "But if you're here to have fun and blow off steam, I've got no problem."

"The others?" Scáthach asked. "The other Servants?"

"Oh yeah!" He grinned. "I've got three of them at my house. I don't want the war to end yet, yeah?"

"Is this not why the Grail has summoned us?"

"We're _alive_ again, Lancer. Alive! I'm not letting go of that chance for anything. And with three Servants already taken, the only ones left are you and Archer," he stated. "So, no Servants are dying, no Grail can be formed, and I can milk this for a fair bit longer!"

"You don't want to fight?" she asked.

"Of course I want to fight! Every ounce of my being wants to! But I'm Blackbeard. I'm not some idiot no-name like Wu, who capitulates the moment their Master is broken. My quarry is much more than this ritual, Lancer." He smirked. "Before I am dragged kicking and screaming back into the void, I have a goal. A mission, if you will. We only bring our memories of this back to our Spirits within the Throne of Heroes." Blackbeard folded his arms. "Can't even bring back a single piece of merchandise! Tch. Well, before I go down, I plan on bringing the memory of as many anime or manga that I can back with me."

Scáthach tilted her head to the side as she stared at the man."I do not understand. You do not have a wish for the Grail?"

"Tch. Unless it lets me return to life and survive until the last manga is ever written, I couldn't care less. Nothing holds meaning to me unless I take it. Nothing holds its value unless I declare it does! And I lose interest in things I get for free." He shrugged. "Last night I didn't get a very good look at you, though."

"Are we fighting right now or not?" Scáthach whispered, standing in the open next to him.

"That's what I am trying to explain!" He huffed. "I don't want to fight you because I need to finish Inuyasha and Samurai Seven. Last night was just a skirmish, you know?"

"No, I was not aware. You seemed quite eager to kill us."

"Ah." He nodded. "I was quoting One Piece." He pointed towards one of the posters on the walls, for emphasis.

Scáthach gave it a glance, seeing some kind of sailing ship upon the poster. "It seems to relate to you."

"It's a story about pirates. But the pirates are the good guys!" He pumped his fist. "And they have magical powers and devil fruit that you eat and become suppppaaaaah!" He closed his eyes, looking to be in bliss. "It's quite good. I've been reading it for the last two days."

She relaxed her arm. "Do you mind if I ask you more questions? I find that I, too, don't wish this partial existence to end," she stated. "Though I still believe the Grail can fulfill my wish."

"Pah." He laughed. "That glorified gardy-loo won't help any of us. At the end of the day, only those mages will get anything."

"They are still living their first life. Perhaps they deserve it."

"I didn't fuck, fight and die to come back and have all that mean nothing." He grinned at her lavisciously. "Once I catch up on anime I'll get back to the wine, women and gold. Those mages haven't earned anything yet, and I am loath to part with a single ounce of this life."

"I guess I want it too." Scáthach mused. "There is so much more than when we lived."

"The entertainment has improved, oh yeah!" The man chuckled. "I'm Edward Teach, by the way."

"Scáthach," she answered, finding it a peaceful moment despite what had happened last night. "Dunscaith."

"Lady of the night, eh?" He whistled. She frowned at his terminology. "Don't misunderstand, Lancer. I like my ladies of the night. But you're literally shadows made manifest. Your legends didn't say that a monk should be that pretty, eh!"

"Your flattery will earn you nothing."

"Then I lose nothing for calling a pretty woman such." He narrowed his eyes on her. "You would make a good bunny girl, you know?"

Scáthach looked confused. "I don't know what that is."

"Oooh!" He gave a fist pump. "Come on, I'll show you!" He stood up, moving for the Animate store. Without any kind of request, he grabbed her by the wrist and dragged her along. Tempted as she was to manifest Gáe Bolg and cut his wrist off, his grip held little strength. "You're going to love this place!"

Truth be told, this seemed to be the source of the drinking hall smell. It was filled with bright colors, and merchandise for things known and unknown. She kept up the pace, keeping track of the turns and twists that Blackbeard was taking her through. "It is colorful," she allowed him. "Wait." She stopped his dragging, as they came to a stop in front of a display case of small figurines. "These look like my spear!" she said, looking at the small figures.

"Well, emulation is the most sincere form of flatter—" He stopped and stared. "Limited edition adult version of Hotaru Tomoe!" He leaned close to the glass. "Woah. She has a different spear to yours, yeah?"

"Two blades. A glaive," Scáthach noted. "But the grips are well placed."

"Oh, yeah. She's the senshi of death and rebirth, with powers over both! She can destroy the planet if she really wanted to…" He laughed. "But she is ill and sickly, and the powers she took are the only reason she is still alive."

"She does have similar hair," Scáthach considered. "Though the figurine seems very expensive."

"It's too bad," Teach muttered. "I'd want to take so much of this back with me." He nodded to himself. "Ah! Look! Now that's a bunny girl!" He pointed to another figurine, dressed in a scandalous outfit. The bunny ears were the only thing resembling an actual rabbit.

The look she gave Blackbeard was icy. "You imply that I am such?"

He didn't even look ashamed of himself. "No, I said you'd make it look good. Maybe if I get you and your master to surrender I'll hold you to that, eh?"

"You'll find I usually kill my enemies."

"That's what Drake liked to say," he muttered. "Well, how about this for a promise. I won't come fight you for another three days. Three days of anime, and _then_ I will come for you, yeah?"

"You don't want to fight for three days?"

"Nope. Samurai Seven has its final episode in three days. You take that away from me and I'll fucking destroy this whole city," he said off-handedly. "No one gets between me and my anime."

"And if I were to disagree?"

"Then you disagree and we fight. But I'll not be at my best," he pointed out. "You want something from this war. I am just saying hold off for a few more days. I'm not avoiding you, just resolving all that I have left before I finish things off."

"I suppose I should administer the English test I promised…" she mused. "I accept."

"You're teaching English?" He laughed, loudly. "I bet it's—" He saw the flash of magic as she prepared to summon her spear. "Sexy. Yes, sexy," he corrected his near-mockery. "Alright. I finish my anime, you finish your English test. Then we settle things with spear and hook, yeah?"

She nodded, giving him a smile. "Yes."

"Well, then!" He gave a deep sigh of relief. "You're gonna be real fun to fight, Eh?"

"I look forward to testing your blade on the battlefield." She bowed. "Goodbye, Edward."

He waved, watching as she made her way through the meandering pathways to the exit. She passed men and women but her mind was upon the utterly strange man that was Blackbeard. He didn't want to end the war. He wanted to fight, but not end it at all. It was, she mused, a welcome thought. It also meant that if he was defeated, the other servants he had 'taken' would be back on the field of battle as well if what he claimed was true. Defeating him would mean increasing the risk upon Shirou. Perhaps defeating him was not the path to what she wanted.

By the time she found the front of the store, the pirate had somehow beaten her there. "Hey." He waved. "I got you something, since you seemed to like it."

In his hands was the figurine, along with some kind of box. "That is a VCR cassette. If I'm watching anime for three days, I figured you might enjoy some."

"Isn't this expensive?"

"Saber was loaded when I defeated them. Some of that is my spending money, so it doesn't matter to me. But this? This stuff they've made in the future is beautiful. Sharing that beauty?" He clutched his chest, where he was holding two more bags of what was undoubtedly more of his loot. "I can't think of a better gift to someone else who is only taking experiences back after this."

"Thank you, Blackbeard," she said, taking the bag from him. "Three days."

"Three days." He nodded. "Our Masters aren't the only ones who need to resolve things before it ends. We have to live for ourselves, too."

Scáthach took a long moment to consider that. "Isn't that selfish, for a Heroic Spirit to do?"

"Sure, if you're a monk." He winked. "But my heart beats with stolen time and stolen mana powers my being. Being a pirate, that makes every moment of this life beyond selfish! But I want more than that. I want to wake up with the sun, knowing that this won't be my last day. It's how I lived in life, and I shall have no regrets during this one!"

"I would never want to fight such a warrior unless he was at his best." She nodded. "I will see you in three days."

The two Servants parted, their hands full and Scáthach felt her heart be more at ease. Though she got some odd looks for her shopping, she boarded the train that would take her back to Shirou, back to Fuyuki's school system, and the little pocket of joy she had found. Perhaps she would even try whatever this 'Pretty Warrior' anime was.

* * *

From **Aberron**:

"So, I had to do some digging into the pure weebery that is anime in order to fulfill this chapter. Animate! Is a massive empire of shops in Japan that stock anime figures, goods, etc. They are often right next to Game Centers in nicer areas. By the way, video tours of those are pretty awesome.

Most of the time in Fate/Grand Order Blackbeard is considered kind of a joke. I really don't agree with that. This chapter honors him, but also the woman that is selfish within Scáthach. I hope all of you enjoy this as much as I did. Until next time, when my pidgin english is even worse!

Seriously I wish all of you the best. 2020 has been a year for the books."

Your ending theme is _The Last of the Real Ones_ by **Fall Out Boy**.

Thanks for reading.


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